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I 


SINK OR SWIM 

Or 

Harry Raymond’s Resolve 


By HORATIO ALGER, Jr. 

Author of “ Ben Bruce,” Bernard Brooks’ Adventures,.** 
“A Debt of Honor,” Mark Manning’s Mission,” 

'S' “ Mark Mason’s V ictory , ” etc . , etc. 


A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
NEW YORK 





I 

I 




< r 


A ■ i 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER I 

THE VERNON HIGH SCHOOL 

“Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I 
give my hand and my heart to this vote.” 

These words were declaimed in a clear, ringing 
voice from the platform of the Vernon High 
School. The speaker was a boy of fifteen, well-knit 
and vigorous, with a frank, manly expression, and 
a preposessing face. His dark intellectual brow, 
and his attitude, as he faced his schoolmates, was 
one of ease and unconscious grace. His eye flashed 
as he declaimed with appropriate emphasis the 
patriotic extract which commences in the well- 
known words quoted above. He had learned the 
orator’s secret — to be in earnest — and he carried 
his audience with him. When, at the conclusion of 
his declamation, he bowed and walked to his desk, 


2 SINK OR SWIM 

the boys broke into spontaneous applause. T. hough 
this was contrary to the rules of the school, Reuben 
Tower, A.M., the principal, uttered no reprimand. 
He had himself been pleased with the declamation, 
and sympathized to some extent with the scholars. 

“Very well indeed. Master Raymond! You 
speak as if you felt it,” he said. 

Harry Raymond looked gratified at this double 
commendation. The applause of his schoolmates 
pleased him, for he was by no means indifferent to 
their good opinion, which he tried on all occasions 
to deserve. He was no less pleased with Mr. 
Tower’s praise, for he had a high respect for his 
ability, and that praise was never lightly bestowed. 

I have spoken of Harry’s good appearance. I 
am obliged to confess that his dress had nothing to 
do with this. In fact, his jacket and pants were of 
very coarse texture, and by no means elegant in fit. 
Besides this, they appeared, though neat, to have 
seen considerable service, and there was a patch on 
one knee — very small, indeed, but still a patch. In 
fact, I may as well state at the outset that Harry 
was the son of a house carpenter — an industrious 
and intelligent man, but still of limited income, and 
obliged to economize strictly in order to lay aside, 
as he made it a point to do, a hundred dollars a 
year as a provision for the future. 

The applause which followed our hero’s decla- 
mation was almost unanimous. I say almost^ for 


SINK OR SWIM 3 

there were two boys who did not join in It. One of 
these was James Turner, a boy about Harry’s age, 
but more slightly made. He was the son of Squire 
Turner, the wealthiest man in Vernon, and his 
dress afforded quite a contrast to the ill-fitting gar- 
ments of our young hero. The village tailor’s skill 
had not been deemed sufficient, but James had 
accompanied his father to New York, where his 
measure had been left with a Broadway tailor, who 
had made up the suit and sent it to Vernon by ex- 
press. The cloth was very fine, and there was a 
style and neatness of fit about the clothes of which 
James felt proud. He regarded his companions 
with a supercilious air, as If convinced of his own 
Immeasurable superiority. In dress at least. 

James Turner did not participate in the applause 
called forth by Harry Raymond’s declamation. On 
the contrary, he sat with an unpleasant sneer on his 
lips, and cast a glance of scorn at the patch, which 
his quick eye had detected in our hero’s pants. 

There w^as another boy, sitting next to James, 
who also refrained from joining In the applause. 
This was Tom Barton, a friend and hanger-on of 
James Turner, who, by persistent flattery, earned 
the privilege of being treated with half-contemptu- 
ous familiarity and condescension by the young 
aristocrat. He knew that James did not like Harry 
Raymond, and the sneer which he saw on the lips 
of his patron gave him the cue. He attempted to 


4 SINK OR SWIM 

imitate it, and gaze scornfully at the young orator 

in his momentary triumph. 

“James Turner !” called out the principal. 

James Turner rose from his seat, and walked to 
the platform, which he ascended, greeting the audi- 
ence tfith a stiff and consequential bow, and an air 
which might be Interpreted to mean, “Boys, you 
will now have the privilege of hearing me speak.” 

James had selected a good piece — Patrick 
Henry’s well-known appeal to arms, familiar to 
every schoolboy, commencing, “I have but one 
lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the 
lamp of experience.” 

It is a fine piece of oratory, lofty in tone and 
sentiment, and should be spoken with dignified 
earnestness. James Turner’s voice, which was 
shrill, was scarcely calculated to do justice to it. 
Still it would not have called out any demonstration 
from the young auditory, but for one or two pecu- 
liar ideas on the part of James, as to the proper 
way of speaking It. When he came to the clause, 
“We have prostrated ourselves before the throne,” 
he suited the action to the word, and sank upon his 
knees. But, afraid of soiling his pantaloons, he 
first spread out his silk handkerchief on the plat- 
form, and this spoiled whatever effect the action 
might otherwise have had. There was a general 
titter, which the young aristocrat saw with anger. 
At the end of the sentence, he rose from his knees, 


SINK OR SWIM 5 

and, with a general scowl at the boys, kept on with 
his declamation. 

But a more serious contretemps awaited him. A 
little further on, the orator says, “We have been 
spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the 
throne.” Here again, James, with a striking lack 
of judgment, thought it would heighten the effect 
to suit the action to the word. Accordingly, he pre- 
pared to kick out with his right foot. Unfortu- 
nately, he was so provoked with his schoolmates, 
for their lack of appreciation of the other point he 
had made, that he executed the maneuver, if it may 
properly be so-called, with a spiteful emphasis 
which was too much for his equilibrium. He lost 
his balance, and fell forward in a ludicrous manner, 
and rolled over on the floor of the schoolroom. 

It could not be expected that fifty schoolboys 
could restrain their merriment under such trying 
circumstances. There was a wild burst of laughter, 
in which, after an ineffectual attempt to resist the 
infection, Mr. Tower himself was compelled to 
join. Boys laughed till the tears came into their 
eyes, and the merriment was only increased when 
James Turner rose to his feet, and with an air of 
offended majesty marched indignantly to his seat, 
darting a look of withering scorn, as he meant it to 
be, at his youthful audience. 

The laughter recommenced, and became almost 


6 SINK OR SWIM 

hysteric. The principal, however, quickly recov- 
ered himself, and said : 

“Boys, that will do. Turner, you must excuse 
the boys for a little good-natured merriment at your 
expense. I think your conception of the gestures 
proper to use with your piece is not quite correct. 
However, that is a point on which the most experi- 
enced speakers are apt to make mistakes; not only 
boys, but men. Your intention was good, though 
the effect was injured by circumstances.” 

These remarks ought to have appeased the 
offended orator, but he evidently did not mean to 
be appeased so readily. His feeling of mortifica- 
tion was swallowed up in a greater feeling of anger 
and irritation at the presumption of his school- 
mates, in daring to laugh at him, the son of the 
richest man in Vernon. He felt that he was en- 
titled, rather, to be treated with respect and defer- 
ence. So he sat sullenly through the remainder of 
the speaking, with an ill-tempered scowl upon his 
features. 

When the speaking was over, Mr. Tower rose 
and said: 

“Boys, you are aware that at the commencement 
of the term I offered a prize to the boy who, in 
your own judgment, should be pronounced to have 
succeeded best in declamation, taking into consid- 
eration the whole term. As this is the last time we 
shall declaim before vacation, I will call for the 


SINK OR SWIM 7 

vote now. I shall distribute small slips of paper 
among you, and I will ask each boy to inscribe upon 
his slip the name of that one who, in his opinion, 
deserves the prize. We will afterward count the 
votes.” 

Slips of paper were accordingly distributed, and 
the boys were soon busy in recording their votes. 

“Sheffield, you may collect the votes,” said Mr. 
Turner. 

The boy referred to passed among the desks 
with his hat, and the slips of paper were deposited 
therein. These were handed to the teacher, who 
forthwith proceeded to count them. 

The count over, he rapped on his desk. 

“Boys,” he said, “I will announce the vote. 
Votes cast, fifty. Of these Walter Sheffield has 
one; James Turner, two, and the remainder, forty- 
seven in number, are for Harry Raymond, to whom 
I have great pleasure in awarding the prize, of 
which he has been pronounced worthy by the nearly 
unanimous vote of his schoolmates. Raymond, you 
will come forward.” 

Harry Raymond advanced toward the teacher’s 
desk, amid the loud applause of his companions. 

Mr. Tower placed in his hands a handsomely 
bound volume, consisting of selections from the 
best efforts of orators, ancient and modern, saying : 

“I have great pleasure in giving you this volume, 
Raymond, for my own judgment approves the 


8 SINK OR SWIM 

selection of your school fellows. I trust you will 
be able to express in your life, as you have so ap- 
propriately done upon the platform, the lofty and 
elevated sentiments of our best orators.” 

There was a flush of gratification upon our hero’s 
cheek, as he received the book with a respectful 
bow, and returned to his seat, amid the renewed 
applause of his fellow-pupils. 


SINK OR SWIM 


9 


CHAPTER II 

SOUR GRAPES 

Harry Raymond lived in a small house, just off 
the main street, fronting on a narrow road or lane. 
The building lot, consisting of an acre of land, his 
father had bought three years before for one hun- 
dred and fifty dollars. After purchasing and pay- 
ing for it cash down, he found that he had but one 
hundred dollars left toward the house which he 
wanted to build. Under these circumstances he 
went to Squire Turner, who was the moneyed man 
of the village, and asked for a loan. Knowing that 
his money would be safe, the squire agreed to fur- 
nish him what money he might need toward the 
house, taking a mortgage upon it when it was com- 
pleted. 

Mr. Raymond, therefore, at once commenced 
building. His house cost a thousand dollars, of 
which Squire Turner furnished him seven hundred, 
the balance being made up of his own labor and 
cash in hand. So, when all was done, he regarded 
himself as worth a property of twelve hundred dol* 


lo SINK OR SWIM 

lars, subject to a mortgage of seven hundred. Dur- 
ing the three years that had since elapsed he had 
managed, besides paying interest, to pay up three 
hundred dollars of the mortgage, leaving only four 
hundred due. This had not been accomplished 
without some economy; but his wife and Harry had 
cheerfully acquiesced in this, being anxious for the 
time to come when they might be clear owners of 
the little house. 

The house contained six rooms, and stood about 
fifty feet back from the street. The land in the rear 
made an excellent garden, supplying them with all 
the vegetables of which they had need. 

Besides Harry, there was his sister Katy, a little 
girl of ten, sweet and winning in her ways, to whom 
he was warmly attached. 

Mr. Raymond had kept Harry steadily at school, 
feeling that a good education woudd be of far more 
value to him in after life than the small amount he 
might earn if kept at work. Harry had justified 
this determination, having acquitted himself on all 
occasions most creditably In all the studies which he 
pursued. Out of school he found time to work In 
the garden, and assist In various ways, by sawing 
and splitting what wood was required for family 
use, so that his father, on returning from his day’s 
labor was not under the necessity of fatiguing him- 
self by extra work. 

We will now return to the Vernon High School. 


SINK OR SWIM II 

When school was dismissed, Harry Raymond 
was surrounded by his friends, eager to congratu- 
late him on his success. 

“I congratulate you, Harry,” said Walter Shef- 
field, good-naturedly, “which is doing the hand- 
some thing, considering that I was your rival. You 
only had forty-six more votes than I. That’s what 
I call a close shave.” 

“You voted for yourself, didn’t you, Sheffield?” 
said Will Pomeroy. 

“I’m not going to expose myself, if I did,” said 
Walter. 

“Shouldn’t wonder if Turner voted for himself,” 
said one of the boys, in a low voice. 

“But he had two votes.” 

“Oh, Tom Barton cast the other vote, of 
course,” said Will Pomeroy, rather contemptuous- 
ly. “He fawns upon Turner just because he’s rich. 
I wish him joy of his friend.” 

“Say, Turner, did you vote for yourself?” called 
out one of the boys. 

“None of your business,” said James Turner, 
sharply. 

He stood a little on one side with his crony, Tom 
Barton, surveying the scene with an ill-tempered 
scowl. It was very disagreeable to him to see 
Harry Raymond’s triumph. In fact, he hated our 
hero, for no good reason except that Harry was his 
acknowledged superior in acquirements, always 


12 


SINK OR SWIM 

standing higher In his classes, and receiving from 
his schoolmates a degree of respect and deference 
which James Turner with all his money could not 
buy. 

“Why don’t you come and congratulate Ray- 
mond on his prize?” 

“I’d rather congratulate him on his pantaloons,” 
said James, with a sneer. 

“What’s the matter with them?” demanded Will 
Pomeroy, supposing at first that Harry might have 
soiled them In some way. 

“Patches seem to be in fashion,” said James, 
with another sneer. 

Of course the attention of all the boys was at- 
tracted to Harry’s knee, and the patch, which had 
hitherto escaped observation, was discovered. 

Harry Raymond’s cheek flushed, for he saw that 
an Insult was Intended, but he did not at once speak. 

“For shame. Turner!” said Will Pomeroy, In- 
dignantly, and It was evident that the other boys 
sympathized with him In his feeling. 

“What should I be ashamed of?” retorted 
Turner. 

“For your meanness In twitting Harry with the 
patch.” 

“I didn’t; I only mentioned It.” 

“You are envious because he got the prize.” 

“What do I care for the trumpery prize? It 
didn’t cost more than a dollar and a half. My 


SINK OR SWIM 13 

father will buy me a dozen such books, If I want 
them.” 

“Perhaps he will; but for all that you’d have 
taken It quick enough if you could have got It. It 
Isn’t the value of the book, It’s what It means.” 

“What does It mean?” 

“That Harry Raymond is the best speaker in the 
Vernon High School.” 

“Boys,” said Harry, quietly, “don’t trouble your- 
selves to defend me. I don’t care what James Tur- 
ner says. Perhaps the book didn’t cost more than 
a dollar and a half, but It was given me by your 
votes, and that makes It worth more to me than If 
It cost a hundred dollars. I haven’t had a chance to 
say It before, but I am grateful to you for your 
kindness In awarding It to me, and I shall always 
treasure It for that reason.” 

“Three cheers for Harry Raymond I” called out 
Walter Sheffield, waving his arm, and giving the 
signal. 

The three cheers were given with a will, and 
Harry looked gratified at this proof of the regard 
in which he was held. 

“Now three groans for James Turner!” said 
another. 

“No, boys,” said Harry, promptly; “don’t do 
that.” 

“But he insulted you.” 

“I suppose you mean about the patch. But never 


14 SINK OR SWIM 

mind about that. You all know that my father Is a 

poor man, and can’t afford to buy me expensive 

clothes. If I get my clothes torn, I can’t afford to 

throw them aside. I don’t like patches any better 

than anybody, but till I get richer I shall wear 

them.” 

Harry spoke so manfully that the boys heartily 
sympathized with him. It might have been sup- 
posed that James Turner would have been con- 
vinced of his meanness, and ashamed of It ; but he 
was essentially a mean boy, and It may be added 
that a part of his meanness came to him from his 
father, who, though a rich man, was sordid and 
covetous, and never known to do a generous action. 
So James now could not refrain from a parting 
sneer. 

“If Raymond wears patches because he Is poor,” 
he said, “I’ll give him a pair of pants that I’ve got 
through wearing, any time when he’ll come up to 
the house.” 

“You needn’t trouble yourself,” said Harry, 
angry at the Insult. “When I want your cast-off 
clothes I’ll let you know. I’ll go In rags first.” 

“Just as you choose,” said James, sneering. 
“There’s no accounting for tastes. Come along, 
Barton.” 

The two boys walked away, not much regretted 
by those they left behind. If they had heard the 


SINK OR SWIM 15 

remarks made about them after their departure, 
neither would have felt particularly complimented. 

“The beggarly upstart!” said James to his com- 
panion. “He puts on airs enough for a pauper.” 

“So he does,” said Barton. “He can’t speak half 
as well as you. But Mr. Tower’s prejudiced.” 

“I don’t care for his miserable prizes,” said 
James. “They’re not worth thinking of.” 

It was only another illustration of the well- 
known fable of the fox and the grapes. 


i6 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER III 

A SUDDEN BLOW 

Harry Raymond, after receiving the congratu- 
lations of his schoolmates, took his way homeward. 
He was not obliged to travel by the road, as there 
was a short cut across the field. 

At the end of ten minutes he threw open the 
door and went Into the house. His mother was 
Ironing, and Katy sat near-by, reading a book. 

“See what I’ve got, mother,” said Harry, hold- 
ing up his prize. 

“What Is It, Harry?” 

“It’s the prize for declamation. The boys took 
a vote, and It was awarded to me by forty-seven 
votes out of fifty.” 

“I am very glad to hear It,” said Mrs. Raymond, 
and her face wore a proud look, as she glanced at 
the bright and animated face of her son. 

“Who were the three boys that didn’t vote for 
you?” asked Katy. 

“I was one of them,” said Harry, smiling. 


SINK OR SWIM 17 

“Who did you vote for?” 

“For Walter Sheffield.” 

“Is he a good speaker?” 

“Yes.” 

“But he isn’t as good as you are?” 

“That isn’t for me to say.” 

“Who got the other two votes?” 

“James Turner.” 

“He’s an awful disagreeable boy,” said Katy. 
“He puts on all sorts of airs just because his father 
is rich. I wish father was as rich as Squire 
Turner.” 

“Perhaps you’d like to have him for a father?” 

“No, I shouldn’t,” said Katy, quickly. “He’s 
just as bad for a man as James is for a boy.” 

“So, you see, money isn’t everything,” said her 
mother. 

There was a deeper meaning in these words than 
her children knew. There was one passage in her 
early life, known only to herself and her husband, 
with which the rich Squire Turner was connected. 

As a girl, Mrs. Raymond had been very hand- 
some, and even now, at the age of thirty-six, she 
retained much of her good looks. It was not gen- 
erally known that Squire Turner had been an aspi- 
rant for her hand. But though he was even then 
rich, and could have given her an attractive home 
— so far as money can make a home attractive — 
she quietly rejected his suit, and accepted Mr. Ray- 


1 8 SINK OR SWIM 

mond, a journeyman carpenter, with less than a 

hundred dollars. 

This rejection Squire Turner never forgot nor 
forgave. He was not a forgiving man, and his 
resentment was bitter, though he did not choose to 
show it publicly. Indeed, he treated Mr. and Mrs. 
Raymond, to all appearance, as though nothing had 
happened; but none the less he nursed his anger, 
and waited patiently for an opportunity to repay, 
by some grievous injury, the wrong which he fan- 
cied he had suffered. About the same time with 
Mr. Raymond, Squire Turner also married a Miss 
Ellis, a sharp-tempered spinster from a neighboring 
town, whose only redeeming point was the posses- 
sion of ten thousand dollars in her own right. Her 
husband cared nothing for her, but only for her 
money, and the marriage was far from being a 
happy one. Domestic dissension and almost con- 
tinual wrangling were what James had witnessed 
from his babyhood up to the time of his mother’s 
death, a year previous; and perhaps it is not sur- 
prising that the son of such parents should have 
been unpopular, and possessed of disagreeable 
traits. 

Yet Mr. Raymond had applied to Squire Turner 
for money to assist him in building his house. The 
squire had two objects in granting this request. 
First, the security was ample, and the Investment a 
good one ; and, secondly, a debtor is always to some 


SINK OR SWIM 19 

exten/c In the power of his creditor. Squire Turner 
was by no means averse to establishing this power 
over the husband of the woman who had rejected 
his suit. The time might come when he could make 
use of It. 

“What piece did you speak to-day, Harry?” 
asked his mother. 

“The supposed speech of John Adams. You re- 
member how It begins : ‘Sink or swim, live or die, 
survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart to 
this vote.’ ” 

“Yes, I remember It.” 

“I have been thinking, mother,” continued 
Harry, “that I shall take my motto from It.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean this : Sink or swim, I am going to do 
my duty, and try to succeed In life. I am not going 
to be frightened by obstacles, but am going to push 
on as well as I can.” 

“It’s a good motto, Harry. I hope you’ll have 
strength to adhere to It.” 

“I think I’ll go out and split a little wood, now, 
mother.” 

“I wish you would. I always burn a good deal 
on Ironing days.” 

“I think I’ll split enough to last two or three 
'days. I have more time Wednesdays than Mon- 
days.” 

On Wednesday the only afternoon exercise was 


20 


SINK OR SWIM 

declamation, so that, Instead of closing at four, the 
school was usually out, as to-day, at half-past two. 
At half-past five Harry re-entered the house. 

“Isn’t supper ready, mother?” he asked. “I’m 
as hungry as a bear.” 

“Yes, Harry, It Is ready; but your father has not 
got home yet. I have been waiting for him.” 

“Where Is he at work?” 

“On Doctor Lamson’s house, just across the rail- 
road. The doctor is In a hurry to get It finished as 
soon as possible, and perhaps the carpenters are 
working extra hours.” 

“Did father say anything about It before he went 
away this morning?” 

“No, he didn’t mention any Intention of stop- 
ping. But he stopped on Monday a little over time, 
and perhaps he has done so to-night.” 

“Well, I hope he’ll return soon, for I feel un- 
commonly hungry.” 

“If your father Isn’t here by six, we’ll sit down. 
I can keep the tea hot for him.” 

Not a shadow of apprehension was In Mrs. Ray- 
mond’s mind as she spoke, but already a heavy 
calamity had fallen upon her, of which she was 
unconscious. 

Six o’clock came, and Mr. Raymond had not 
returned. 

“I think you had better sit down to tea, chil- 


21 


SINK OR SWIM 

dren,” said their mother. “I am not very hungry, 
and I will wait for your father.” 

They sat down accordingly, and Harry made a 
hearty supper, quite justifying the report he had 
given of his appetite. 

Another hour passed away. 

It was now seven o’clock, and Mr. Raymond was 
still absent. 

“I wonder your father does not come,” said Mrs. 
Raymond, with a little vague restlessness, which 
had not yet been converted into anxiety. ‘‘He has 
not often been so late as this, without telling me 
beforehand that he meant to stay away.” 

“I think I will go out and meet him,” said 
Harry. 

To this Mrs. Raymond made no objection, feel- 
ing, on the whole, rather relieved by the proposal 
of her son. 

She set the tea once more on the stove, and the 
bread and pie were also placed on the hearth of the 
stove to keep warm. 

“Your father must be hungry,” she said to Katy, 
“as it Is so late.” 

Harry went out of the gate, and walked slowly 
up the road in the direction of his father’s probable 
return. He strained his eyes to see through the 
gathering twilight, but could see nothing of his 
father. Rather surprised at this, he kept on, until 
he happened to meet in the street Hiram Payson, 


22 


SINK OR SWIM 

who he knew had also been employed on Doctor 
Lamson’s house. 

“Good evening, Mr. Payson,” he said. 

“Good evening, Harry; where are you going? 
To the store?” 

“No; I thought I would come out and see If I 
could meet my father.” 

“Meet your father? Why, where has he gone?” 

“He hasn’t got home from work yet. Did you 
start before him?” 

“No; he started before me.” 

“He did !” exclaimed Harry, in surprise. “What 
time was that ?” 

“About five o’clock. I know it was not later 
than that.” 

“Where can he be?” 

“Haven’t you seen anything of him?” 

“No. Did he say anything about going any- 
where before he returned home?” 

“No.” 

“Where can he be?” asked Harry, again; and 
this time there was anxiety in his tone. 

“I’ll tell you what, Harry,” said Hiram Payson, 
“if you are going to look for him. I’ll join you.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Payson. I wish you would.” 

The two pushed on in the direction of Doctor 
Lamson’s new house. It was probably about a mile 
distant in all, the railroad being three-quarters of 


SINK OR SWIM 23 

the way. They reached the railroad, and, as if by 
mutual consent, paused and looked about them. 

“Your father sometimes walks on the railroad a 
little distance, as far as Carter’s pasture. Perhaps 
we had better take that way.” 

Harry assented. There was a scared look on his 
face, and a fear which he did not dare to define to 
himself. 

It was realized all too soon. About fifty rods 
distant, they came upon the mangled remains of his 
father lying stretched across the track. His hear- 
ing had been affected by a fever, which he had three 
years previous. It was evident that as he was walk- 
ing on the track, the train sweeping round a curve 
had come upon him unawares, and his life was the 
forfeit. Harry uttered one shriek of horror, and 
sank down beside his father’s body, now cold in 
death. 


24 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER IV 

AFTER THE FUNERAL 

The grief of Mrs. Raymond and her two chil- 
dren for the death of the husband and father was 
very sharp and poignant. Had he died at home of 
some lingering illness, their minds would have been 
prepared in some measure for the stroke. But, cut 
off as he was in an instant, the blow fell upon them 
very heavily. 

On the third day after the body was found the 
funeral took place. Harry attended as chief 
mourner, for his mother was compelled to remain 
at home on account of illness. But when the 
funeral was over other cares forced themselves 
upon their attention. It is only the rich who can 
afford to give themselves up unreservedly to the 
luxury of grief. The poor must rouse themselves 
to battle for their bread. In Mr. Raymond’s death 
his family had not only lost an affectionate husband 
and father, but the one upon w^hom they had leaned 
for support. How they were to live in future was 
a question which demanded their earliest consid- 
eration. 


SINK OR SWIM 25 

They were gathered in the little sitting-room one 
evening about a week after Mr. Raymond’s death. 
Mrs. Raymond was looking sad and pale, while 
Harry’s face was sober and earnest. He already 
began to realize that his father’s cares and respon- 
sibilities had fallen on his young shoulders, and that 
it was his duty to take that father’s place as well as 
he should be able. 

“It is time, mother,” he said, “that we began to 
talk about our future plans.” 

“I am sure I don’t know what we shall do,” said 
his mother, sighing, for to her the future looked 
formidable. 

But Harry was young, healthy and sanguine, and 
his spirits were lighter. 

“Whatever we do, mother,” he said, “we won’t 
despond. There are a great many ways of getting 
a living, and I know that we shall get along some- 
how.” 

“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Raymond, dubiously. 

“Do you remember that piece I spoke the other 
day?” 

“The one you got the prize for, Harry?” said 
his sister. 

“It wasn’t for that only, but for speaking the 
whole term. The piece began with ‘Sink or Swim ;’ 
and I told you then that I meant to take that for 
my motto.” 

“What do you mean, Harry?” 


26 


SINK OR SWIM 

“I mean this, mother,” said Harry, with energy, 
“that, sink or swim, I am going to do my best; and 
if I do that, I think it’ll be swim and not sink.” 

“But you are so young, Harry,” said his mother, 
not very hopefully. 

“I am fifteen,” said Harry, drawing himself up. 
“I am well and strong, and I can work.” 

“I don’t know what you can find to do.” 

“Oh, there are plenty of things,” said Harry, 
cheerfully, though rather vaguely. It would, per- 
haps, have puzzled him to enumerate the plenty of 
things; but he was hopeful and confident, and that 
was in his favor. 

“Do you think you could build houses, Harry?” 
asked Katy. 

“None that would be worth living in,” he said, 
smiling. “I don’t mean to be a carpenter. It 
would take too long to learn, and the pay is never 
very large. But the first thing to do, mother, is to 
see how we stand.” 

“There’s this house. That is all we have, and 
Squire Turner holds a mortgage on that.” 

“The mortgage is seven hundred dollars. How 
much has been paid on it?” 

“Three hundred dollars.” 

“Then we own it all except four hundred dollars. 
It is worth fully twelve hundred dollars, so that we 
are worth at least eight hundred dollars.” 


SINK OR SWIM 27 

“That won’t last very long,” said Mrs. Ray- 
mond. 

“Not if we spend it; but I hope we shan’t have 
to do that. Still it gives us something to fall back 
upon, in case I don’t succeed very well at first. 
Then there is the furniture; that must be worth at 
least two hundred dollars.” 

“It cost considerably more.” 

“Never mind, we will call it two hundred dollars. 
You see,” he added, cheerfully, “we have got up to 
a thousand already. Now, mother, have you got 
any money in the house?” 

“About twenty-five dollars.” 

“That is not much, but it is something. I sup- 
pose that is all.” 

“Yes, I suppose so.” 

“Well, it isn’t so bad as it might be. Think of 
those who are left wholly destitute, with starvation 
staring them in the face. When you think of that, 
we are quite rich in comparison.” 

“I might have had something to help along,” 
said Mrs. Raymond, “but my father lost what little 
property we had before he died, and left nothing 
at all.” 

“Wasn’t he a soldier in the war of 1812?” in- 
quired Harry. 

“Yes, he served for over a year.” 

“Didn’t he get any pension, or anything else 
from the government?” 


28 


SINK OR SWIM 

“No, he got no pension. He got a grant of land 
■ — eighty acres, I believe — somewhere out in Wis- 
consin.” 

“What did he do with the land?” 

“He never did anything. Land was only a dol- 
lar and a quarter an acre, and nobody would give 
him that. An agent offered him twenty-five dollars 
for his grant, but he would not take it. Then he 
put away the paper, and never did anything more 
about it.” 

“Have you got the paper now, mother?” asked 
Harry, interested. 

“Yes, I believe so. I think I have it somewhere 
In my bureau.” 

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble I would like 
to see it. Can’t I find It?” 

“No, I will go for it.” 

Mrs. Raymond went upstairs, and shortly re- 
turned with a paper yellow with age, setting forth 
that Henry Mann, In consideration of services ren- 
dered to the government, was entitled to a quarter 
section of land, the location of which was specified. 

“A quarter section,” said Harry. “That’s a 
hundred and sixty acres — more than you thought.” 

“Is it?” said Mrs. Raymond, listlessly. “I sup- 
pose It doesn’t make much difference now which 
It Is. After so long a time there is no chance of 
getting It, and I suppose It wouldn’t be worth 
much.” 


SINK OR SWIM 29 

**I don’t know about that,” said Harry. “At 
any rate it’s worth looking into. Shall I keep the 
paper?” 

“Yes, if you wish.” 

“I will go round to-morrow, and see Squire 
Turner, and perhaps he can give me some informa- 
tion about it. But we haven’t talked about our 
plans yet.” 

“I have thought of nothing.” 

“But I have. I will tell you about it, and see 
what you think. First, I thought of hiring some 
land, and turning farmer; but that’s hard work, 
and requires more knowledge than I have got. Be- 
sides, I don’t believe I could earn much.” 

“No; I don’t think you could earn much that 
way.” 

“Then I thought I might go to the city, and get 
a small stock of goods, and go round peddling. Or, 
perhaps, I might get the agency for some popular 
article, and travel about with it.” 

“I am afraid it would be a great undertaking. 
Besides, you have no money to invest.” 

“That’s true; but I could raise some. Squire 
Turner might advance me one hundred dollars, and 
increase the mortgage to that amount. A hundred 
dollars, or even less, would buy all the goods I 
should want at one time. That would be my capitnl 
in trade. As soon as I made money enough, I 


30 SINK OR SWIM 

would pay It back, and then we should be as well 
off as we are now.” 

“I don’t know what to think,” said Mrs. Ray- 
mond, sighing. “I never had any head for busi- 
ness. I always left those things to your father.” 

“But you will consent to my asking such a loan ?” 

“Yes ; if you really think it will do any good.” 

“I do. Remember my motto, mother, ‘Sink or 
Swim !* IVe made up my mind to swim.” 

Thus ended the conference. Harry saw that it 
was as his mother said — she had no head for busi- 
ness. He must form his own plans, and carry them 
through without assistance. 


SINK OR SWIM 


31 


CHAPTER V 

SQUIRE TURNER 

Before doing anything else, Harry determined 
to consult some one about the land warrant. It 
might be worth nothing, or very little, but in their 
present circumstances they could not afford to give 
up even a little. 

As he had suggested in his conversation with his 
mother, he decided to call on Squire Turner and 
ask his advice. He did not particularly like the 
squire, who was not popular in the neighborhood; 
but still he had the reputation of being well 
acquainted with matters of business, and, though 
not a regular lawyer, was accustomed to draw up 
deeds, and conveyances, and wills, and. In fact, sup- 
plied the place of a lawyer so far as his neighbors 
were concerned. There was no one in the village 
so likely as the squire to advise him correctly about 
the land warrant. So Harry put on his cap the next 
morning, and, with the document in his breast- 
pocket, set out on his way to Squire Turner’s resi- 
dence. 


32 SINK OR SWIM 

It was a large, square dwelling-house, setting 
back some distance from the road. There were two 
gates, at the right and left hand, and a semicircular 
driveway, extending from one to the other, passed 
the front door. 

It was half-past eight o’clock, and James Turner 
was standing on the front steps with his books 
under his arm. He had just come out, and was 
about to start for school. James surveyed Harry’s 
approach with some curiosity. 

“Halloo!” said he; “what do you want?” 

This was not a very civil or co/dial greeting, and 
Harry did not feel compelled to satisfy his curi- 
osity. 

“My business is not with you,” he said; “it is 
with your father.” 

“I suppose you’ve come for a job,” said James, 
coarsely. “I suppose you’ll be awful poor.” 

“I don’t know about that,” said Harry, coolly. 
“I guess I shall be able to make a living.” 

“Maybe my father’ll hire you to saw wood.” 

“Thank you; but that isn’t the business I am 
thinking of following.” 

“Perhaps you are going to be a merchant,” 
sneered James. 

“Very likely I may be some time.” 

Harry was not much troubled by the rudeness of 
James ; for he cared nothing for him or his good 
opinion. James was a little nettled to find that his 


SINK OR SWIM 33 

taunts rebounded so harmlessly, and this led him to 
one parting shot. 

Harry had ascended the front steps, and was 
about to ring the bell, when James said, “You 
needn’t ring. You can go round to the back door.” 

“Is that where you go In?” asked Harry. 

“No.” 

“Then, If you use the front door, I shall,” and 
Harry rang a peal a little louder than he would 
have otherwise done. 

James muttered something about his not know- 
ing his place; but before the door was opened 
marched off to school. 

The door was speedily opened by a servant. 

“Is Squire Turner In?” asked Harry. 

“Yes, he Is. Won’t you come In?” 

Harry entered, and passed Into a room on the 
right, which the squire generally used as a sitting- 
room. It was provided with a desk, studded with 
pigeon-holes, most of which were filled with papers. 
Here It was that the amateur lawyer received busi- 
ness calls, and transacted such business as came to 
his hands. 

He looked round as Harry entered. 

Squire Turner, whom I may as well describe 
here, was a tall man, with Iron-gray hair, and a 
slight stoop In the shoulders. His face, which was 
rather harsh, began to show wrinkles. It was not, 
on the whole, a very pleasing or encouraging as- 


34 SINK OR SWIM 

pect; but Harry Raymond, who was used to the 
squire’s looks, did not waste much thought upon 
this. It was his nature to go directly to the point. 

“Did you want to see me?” asked the squire, 
adjusting his spectacles, and looking at our hero. 

“Yes, sir,” said Harry. 

“I’m rather busy now. Be as quick as you can.” 

“My father’s death,” said Harry, his lip quiver- 
ing a little as he said it, “makes it necessary for me 
to form some plans about getting along. I was 
reckoning up yesterday how much we had to start 
with, when my mother showed me a paper which 
may be worth something. Probably you will know. 
So I have brought it along to show you.” 

“Where is it?” asked Squire Turner. 

Harry drew it out from his pocket, and handed 
it to the squire. 

“I see it’s a land warrant in favor of your grand- 
father,” he said, after a little examination. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Given in return for his services in the war of 
1812?” 

“Yes, sir. Is it worth anything?” 

“Didn’t he ever take up the land?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t know, sir; except that Wisconsin was a 
good ways off, and I believe he had some property 
at that time, so that he did not need it. Mother 


SINK OR SWIM 35 

says he was offered twenty-five dollars fey an agent, 
but wouldn’t accept it. After that, he appears to 
have put it away in his drawer, and forgotten it.” 

“Humph!” said the squire, reflectively, running 
his eyes over the document. 

“Do you think I can get anything for it?” asked 
Harry. 

“I am not prepared to say, positively,” said the 
squire, slowly. “My impression is that, after this 
length of time, it would be impossible to get any- 
thing for it.” 

“I was afraid that might be the case,” said 
Harry. “Is there any way of finding out about it ?” 

“If you’ll leave it with me, I will take steps to 
ascertain,” said Squire Turner. 

“Thank you, sir. If we get anything for It, we 
shall, of course, be willing to pay you for your 
trouble.” 

Most men would at once have assured Harry 
that no payment would be necessary; but Squire 
Turner was never known to refuse a fee — he was 
too fond of money for that — nor was It his Inten- 
tion to do so now. He accordingly answered, 
“Well, I will see about It. It may take some time.” 

“There was something else I wished to speak to 
you about,” said Harry. 

“Proceed.” 

“You hold a mortgage upon our place.” 

“Well?” 


36 SINK OR SWIM 

“It Is now reduced to four hundred dollars by 
payments made by my father.” 

“Do you wish to pay the remainder?” 

“No, sir; I am not able to. What I want is to 
get another hundred dollars from you on the same 
security, making it five hundred dollars instead of 
four.” 

“What do you want with the money?” 

“I have been thinking that I might get a stock 
of goods in the city, and go about selling them. I 
have got to do something, and I think I might make 
money that way.” 

“I couldn’t let you have the money,” said the 
squire. 

“No, sir, I suppose not. But mother is willing, 
as she will tell you herself.” 

“I don’t know but I can do it,” said the squire, 
after a little pause. “Mind, I don’t give any advice 
as to the plan you have In view. You may make it 
pay, and you may not. Perhaps it would be better 
to get something to do about here.” 

“There Isn’t much chance In Vernon,” answered 
Harry; “and there are plenty to do what little 
work there is.” 

“Well, that’s your affair. About the money, I 
will consider the matter, and If you will come round 
to-morrow I will let you know what I have de- 
cided.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 


SINK OR SWIM 37 

“And about the land warrant, I will write out to 
a lawyer I know in Milwaukee, and ask his opinion. 
When his answer comes, I will let you know.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Harry; and, his business 
being at an end, he took his cap, and with a bow 
left the room. 

On the whole, he was better pleased with the re- 
sult of the interview than he anticipated. Squire 
Turner had not been very cordial or sympathetic, 
it is true, but he seemed disposed to grant the re- 
quest which he had made ; and, though Harry did 
not like him, he had a very good opinion of his 
business abilities. 

“If we can only get a hundred dollars or so for 
the land warrant,” he said to himself, “it will be a 
great help.” 


33 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER VI 

HARRY OBTAINS A POSITION 

On the way back from Squire Turner’s, Harry 
stepped into the village store, as he had one or two 
small articles to purchase for his mother. This 
store was kept by Jonas Porter, a man over fifty. In 
rather poor health. On this account he was obliged 
to depend considerably upon two young men, whom 
he employed as assistants. One of them, John 
Gaylord, was twenty-five years of age, and an 
efficient salesman. The other, Alfred Harper, was 
about eighteen, and of course less experienced and 
valuable. The last was employed partly in driving 
the store wagon with goods to difierent parts of the 
village. 

Harry entered the store, and, going up to the 
counter, said to the proprietor, who was standing 
behind, “Mr. Porter, I v/ant two pounds of brown 
sugar.” 

“How is your mother?” asked the storekeeper. 

“Not very well,” answered Harry. 

“No, I suppose not. Your father’s death must 
be a great blow to her.” 


39 


SINK OR SWIM 

‘‘Yes, sir. It Is to all of us.’* 

“I hope she will soon be feeling better. Health 
Is a blessing we don’t appreciate till we lose It. I 
have not been feeling very well, lately. In fact, I 
am not fit to be In the store.” 

“Where Is Alfred Harper? I have not seen him 
for a day or two.” 

“He has been taken sick, and has gone home. 
He may be sick some weeks. It Is unlucky just 
now, for I am not fit to be In the store. I wish I 
could get somebody to take his place for a few 
weeks.” 

Here an Idea struck Harry. He was not as old 
as Alfred Harper, but he was strong, and he 
thought he might be able to do his work. He de- 
cided to suggest It to the storekeeper. 

“If you thought I would do,” he said, “I should 
be glad to come Into the store. I have got to go to 
work now.” 

“I am afraid you are too young,” said Mr. Por- 
ter, doubtfully. “How old are you?” 

“Fifteen, sir.” 

“That Is young.” 

“Yes, sir; but I am pretty stout and strong of 
my age.” 

“You look so. Can you drive a horse?” 

“Oh, yes, sir. I have done that a good many 
times.” 

“I don’t know,” said the storekeeper, hesitating 


40 SINK OR SWIM 

a little. “You couldn’t do as much as Alfred; still, 
you could help a good deal. I have always heard 
good accounts of you. Mr. Gaylord, how will it do 
to engage Harry Raymond a few weeks while AI 
fred is away?” 

“I think it would be a good plan, sir,” said John 
Gaylord, who was familiar with Harry’s good 
reputation, and had a very favorable opinion of 
him. “It would lighten your labors a good deal.” 

“Very true; and I am really not able to be in the 
store. Well, Harry,” he proceeded, “I guess you 
may come.” 

“When shall I come?” 

“The sooner the better.” 

“Then I’ll come this afternoon,” said Harry, 
promptly. “I want to go home and split up a little 
wood for mother, enough to last her.” 

“Very well. About the pay, I will give you six 
dollars a week.” 

Six dollars a week! This seemed to Harry a 
large sum. His father had only been paid two dol- 
lars per day, and therefore received but twice as 
much. He had hoped, to be sure, to earn more as 
a peddler; but then his expenses would be large, 
and, after all, he might fail, for it was but an 
experiment. Here there was no risk, but a certain 
weekly income. Besides — and this was an impor- 
tant consideration — it would enable him to con- 
tinue at home, and he knew that just at this time 


SINK OR SWIM 41 

his mother and little Kay would feel his absence 
more than at any other time. 

Good news always quickens the step. Harry 
entered the house briskly, and placed the parcels he 
had brought from the store upon the table. 

“Here are the sugar and butter, mother,” he 
said. “Now I’ll go out and split you some wood, 
for I’ve got to go to work this afternoon.” 

“What kind of work?” asked Mrs. Raymond, 
looking up. 

“Alfred Harper is sick, and so is Mr. Porter. 
So he has engaged me to take Alfred’s place for 
the present, at a salary of six dollars a week. I 
think that’s pretty lucky.” 

“Then you won’t have to leave home,” said his 
mother, brightening up for the first time. “I was 
so afraid you would have to, and that would make 
it very lonely for Katy and me.” 

“No, I shall be at home, only you won’t see much 
of me, for I’ve got to go to the store early, and I 
suppose I shall get home late.” 

“At any rate, you won’t be away from Vernon. 
I don’t think I could bear to part from you just 
now.” 

“Did you call and see Squire Turner, Harry?” 
asked Katy. 

“Oh, yes; I almost forgot to tell you. He has 
taken the paper, and is going to write to a lawyer in 
Milwaukee about it.” 


42 SINK OR SWIM 

“Does he think it is worth anything?” 

“He doesn’t give much hope, it’s so many years 
ago ; so we wpn’t count upon it. I asked him about 
letting me have a hundred dollars to start in busi- 
ness with, and he said he would let me know to- 
morrow. I didn’t know then that I could get a 
place with Mr. Porter.” 

“I would rather have you with Mr. Porter.” 

“Yes, I would rather stay there for the present. 
But you must remember that it won’t last but a few 
weeks. After that I may have to do as I proposed.” 

Harry went out, and labored manfully at the 
wood-pile for a couple of hours. Then he got the 
basket and carried in considerable and piled it up 
in the kitchen, so that his mother might not have 
the trouble of going out to get it. 

Meanwhile Squire Turner was writing a letter to 
a Mr. Robinson, a Milwaukee lawyer, whom he 
knew. He stated the matter fully, giving his corre- 
spondent, however, the idea that the warrant had 
come into his own possession. In fact, he had made 
up his mind, in case the paper should be worth any- 
thing, to turn it to his own benefit, by hook or by 
crook. He was a rich man already, to be sure ; but 
he was not contented with what he had, nor was he 
likely to be. He was, as I have already stated, a 
grasping, avaricious man, and as long as money 
went into his pocket he cared very little that it was 
at the expense of the widow and orphan. He did 


SINK OR SWIM 43 

not build any very high hopes on the warrant. Still 
he was not a man to let a chance slip by. 

In the course of a fortnight he received an an- 
swer to his letter. As It Is of some importance, I 
will transcribe It here : 

“Milwaukee, Wis., May 27, 18 — . 

“Mr. Turner — Dear Sir: Yours of the 21st, 
asking Information as to the probable value of a 
certain land warrant In your possession, has come 
to hand. It appears that the land was located, 
though the owner never appeared to take possession 
of It. In consequence It has fallen into the hands 
of others. The tract In question Is a valuable one, 
being situated only a few miles out of Mil \ aukee, 
and has upon It several valuable buildings. My 
own opinion Is that If the matter is followed up, 
though you might not be able to get possession with- 
out a protracted lawsuit, so much value being In- 
volved, the present holders would be willing to pay 
a considerable sum by way of compromise. It 
might be worth while for you to come on, and see 
about the matter yourself. I will assist you to the 
best of my ability. Yours respectfully, 

“Francis Robinson.” 

Squire Turner read this letter with a lively Inter- 
est. So the neglected yellow paper promised to be 
valuable, after all. Perhaps, Indeed, it might be 


44 SINK OR SWIM 

worth thousands of dollars. In that case, Mrs. 

Raymond would be very well off. 

The main question in Squire Turner’s mind was, 
how could he manage so as to profit by it himself. 
He was meditating upon this as he walked home 
from the postoffice, when he met Harry Raymond, 
driving the store wagon. 

Harry paused, and hailed the squire. 

“Squire Turner,” he said, “have you found out 
anything yet about that paper I left with you ?” 

“Not yet,” said the squire, falsely; for he had 
no intention of disclosing the truth at present. “I 
am afraid we can’t get anything for it after so 
many years. When I hear anything I will let you 
know.” 

“I was afraid it was too long ago,” said Harry; 
“so I am not much disappointed.” 

“I am thinking of taking a little trip to the West 
before long,” said Squire Turner. “I may be able 
to find out something about it then.” 

Harry started the horse towards the store, and 
thought so little of the land warrant that he quite 
forgot to mention the matter to his mother in the 
evening. 


SINK OR SWIM 


45 


CHAPTER VII 

A MEAN TRICK 

Harry Raymond had been employed in Mr. 
Porter’s store but a few days when he had a diffi- 
culty with James Turner, which deserves to be 
chronicled. For various reasons James cherished 
a dislike of our hero, which he was not likely to get 
over very soon. Harry had always distanced him 
in his studies, and, as we have seen, had carried off 
the prize for declamation, which James persuaded 
himself would have been his but for the partiality 
of Mr. Tower. Again, James aspired to be a 
leader among the boys at school and in the village. 
He felt that this position was due to him on account 
of the superior wealth of his father. When boys 
assert this claim to consideration, it is generally a 
sign that they have little else to boast of; and this 
was precisely the case with James Turner. 

Now, it may appear strange that though Squire 
Turner was the richest man in the village, and Mr. 
Raymond one of the poorest, the boys paid much 


46 SINK OR SWIM 

more respect to Harry than to the son of the 
wealthy squire. Harry was put forward promi- 
nently on all occasions; as, for example, when a 
military company was formed, he was elected cap- 
tain, while James could not even obtain the post of 
simple corporal. Of course the latter withdrew his 
name from the roll in disgust ; but the company, so 
far from being thrown into consternation, appeared 
to thrive about as well as before. This military 
organization went by the name of the Vernon 
Guards, and consisted of about thirty boys. They 
used to parade on Saturday afternoons, when a 
sufficient number could be gathered for duty, and 
the young captain, who had studied up his duties, 
discharged them in a very creditable manner. 

James Turner, however, had one consolation in 
all this strange neglect. His superiority was con- 
ceded by one boy, who was in the habit of revolv- 
ing round him like an humble satellite. This was 
Tom Barton, who has already been referred to. 
Tom was a born sycophant, and was ready on all 
occasions to flatter James and join him in abusing 
Harry and Plarry’s friends. Tom’s father was in 
California at the mines. His mother was a weak 
woman, of an envious disposition, who was always 
bewailing her fate in having married a poor man 
instead of a certain other person who had turned 
out rich, and who, as she asserted, had offered her 


SINK OR SWIM 47 

his hand in early life. In fact, it was generally sup- 
posed that her complaints had driven her husband 
to California to seek for the fortune for which she 
was continually pining. As for Tom, she consid- 
ered him one of the smartest boys in America, and, 
as might be expected, asserted that he took after 
her, and not after his father. 

“There ain’t any Barton about him,” she said. 
“He’s all Jessop.” 

This was not far from true. Tom certainly did 
inherit his mother’s mean and disagreeable quali- 
ties, and there were very few points in which he 
resembled his father, who was really a worthy man, 
and deserved a better wife than had been allotted 
to him. 

It might have been supposed that Harry’s mis- 
fortune in losing his father would have led to a 
suspension of ill feeling on the part of James and 
his sycophant. But I have already said that James 
was a mean boy, and Tom was in this respect a very 
fitting companion for him. Indeed, Tom, besides 
espousing James’s quarrel, had a personal griev- 
ance of his own. At the time that Alfred Harper 
entered the village store, Mr. Porter had an appli- 
cation for the place from Tom, which he had seen 
fit to decline without assigning any reasons for so 
doing. In fact, Tom had the reputation of being 
lazy and self-sufficient, and the storekeeper rightly 
concluded that he would not be likely to prove a 


48 SINK OR SWIM 

very valuable assistant. When Tom heard that 
the coveted place had been given to Harry, he felt 
highly Indignant, not only with Mr. Porter, but 
with Harry himself, and was anxious for an oppor- 
tunity of wreaking vengeance upon our hero. 
Now, the manliest way would have been to make 
a direct assault upon him ; but this he did not car^ 
to do. He knew that Harry had a pair of good, 
strong arms, and was ready on all occasions to 
defend himself. If he should venture upon an 
attack, It was pretty clear to him that he would get 
the worst of It, and this would be very far from 
suiting him. He preferred to wait for some secret 
way of Injuring him. 

That opportunity came about a week after 
Harry had entered upon his duties In Mr. Porter’s 
store. 

It has already been said that one of his duties 
was to drive the store-wagon, and deliver groceries 
In different parts of the village. One afternoon he 
was driving at about half a mile distance from the 
store. Among other articles in the wagon was a 
basket containing three doaen eggs, which, by the 
way, were to be delivered to Squire Turner’s house- 
keeper. 

Just about this part of the road there was a cliff 
on one side, about twenty feet In height, with a 
steep, almost perpendicular, descent. The field ter- 


S-INK OR SWIM 49 

mlnating thus abruptly belonged to Squire Turner. 
It so happened that James Turner and Tom Barton 
were walking leisurely along the cliff just as Harry 
came driving by. 

“There’s Harry Raymond,” said Tom, spite- 
fully. “Old Barton must have been hard up for a 
clerk when he took him.” 

“I suppose he took pity on him,” said James, 
“and give him the situation to keep him out of the 
poorhouse.” 

“That isn’t the way he looks at it,” said Tom. 
“He puts on as many airs as if he owned the store 
himself.” 

“Didn’t you try for the place once, Tom?” 

“Why, not exactly,” said Tom. “I told him I 
would take it if he couldn’t get anybody else. It 
isn’t much of a place.” 

Of course this was only a salve for Tom’s 
wounded pride, for he had been eager to enter the 
store. 

“I’ll tell you what,” added Tom, after a pause, 
“suppose we play a trick on Raymond.” 

“What sort of a trick?” 

“Suppose we pitch a stone into that basket of 
eggs. There’ll be an awful smash, and he can’t 
see who did it.” 

This was a proposition which just suited James. 
It would get Harry into trouble with his employer, 
and this of course would be rare sport. Then, as 


50 SINK OR SWIM 

they could easily withdraw from sight, he would 
never know to whom he was indebted for the favor. 
All these considerations darted through James 
Turner’s mind more quickly than I have stated 
them, and he responded: 

“All right, Tom. You do it. You can fire 
straighter than I.” 

Tom needed no second approval. He seized a 
stone about as large as his two fists, or perhaps a 
little larger, and, bending over the cliff, fired it 
directly at the basket. 

His success was all that he could have wished. 
His aim was a true one, and the first Harry knew 
of the “trick,” there was a loud crash behind him, 
and the contents of the eggs were partially spat- 
tered over him. Glancing quickly back, he saw 
that the wreck was almost total. Of the three 
dozen eggs not one-third had escaped destruction. 

Now, though Harry was naturally good-natured, 
he felt that this was a little too much for good- 
nature. It might be a joke ; but he could not see it 
in that light. He knew that he was likely to be 
blamed for the accident, and he resolved to find 
out how it came about. It was not very probable 
that the stone came into the basket of its own voli- 
tion. There was evidently some human agency 
concerned, and tb^s agency Harry determined to 
ascertain. 


SINK OR SWIM 51 

Looking up, he just caught a glimpse of Tom 
Barton peering over to see what mischief had been 
done. 

“It’s that mean Tom Barton,” he said to him- 
self. “He’s about the only fellow mean enough to 
play such a trick. Perhaps he thinks I’m going to 
stand It.” 

“Whoa!” shouted Harry. 

In obedience to the summons the horse came to 
a halt. 

Harry drew him to the side of the road, and 
jumped out of the wagon. He hesitated about 
leaving the horse unattended ; but just at that mo- 
ment Will Pomeroy came along. 

“Just mind the horse a minute, Will,” said 
Harry. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I’ll tell you when I come back.” 

Our hero felt that there was no time for cxplana- 
t* >n. He began to clamber up the side of the cliff. 
This was a hard job, for It was nearly perpendicu- 
lar, but here and there were roots and bushes that 
helped him along. Probably his Indignation helped 
him, for In a very short time he reached the top. 

Tom Barton was elated at the success of his 
trick. After first looking over to see the extent of 
the damage, he withdrew to a short distance, and 
threw himself under a tree by the side of James 


52 SINK OR SWIM 

Turner. He felt entirely safe, not having the least 

Idea that Harry would undertake to climb the cliff. 

The two boys were laughing together over the 
success of their trick, when the figure of our hero, 
his face red with excitement, and his hands chafed 
and torn, presented Itself unexpectedly. 

Tom sprang to his feet In dismay. 

“Look here, Tom Barton,” said Harry, In a 
quick, peremptory way, “what did you mean by 
pitching a stone Into my basket of eggs ?” 

“Don’t be afraid,” said James Turner, In a low 
voice; “I’ll stand by you.” 

This emboldened Tom. Though he would not 
have liked to engage In single combat with Harry, 
he concluded that our hero would be In no haste to 
engage both. So he answered. Insolently : 

“None of your business !” 

“It strikes me that It Is my business,” said Harry, 
warmly. “It was a mean, contemptible trick.” 

“What are you going to do about It?” sneered 
Tom. 

Now I am not going to justify Harry for the 
course he took, but It was certainly very natural. 

“Stand up here. If you dare, and you’ll see,” he 
answered, with compressed lips. 

“Let’s give him a licking, James,” said Tom. 
“It’ll do him good.” 

Both boys sprang to their feet, and advanced 
towards our hero. He saw that his task was not 


SINK OR SWIM 53 

going to be an easy one. The united strength of 
both of his assailants was undoubtedly greater than 
his own. If he allowed the two to come to close 
quarters with him, he would probably get the worst 
of it. Here was a chance for strategy, and he re- 
solved to improve it. 


54 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER VIII 

THE BATTLE OF THE CLIFF 

Some of my readers are no doubt familiar with 
the memorable combat between the Horatll and 
the Curatll, told In all the Roman histories. There 
were three brothers on each side, and the contest 
between them was to decide the fortunes of the 
armies to which they respectively belonged. After 
a time two of the Horatll lay dead upon the field. 
The third, unhurt, found himself opposed to three 
adversaries, all of whom, however, were wounded. 
These he managed to engage singly, and was thus 
enabled to overcome them In turn. 

I am not sure whether Harry Raymond had 
heard of this historical combat; but when he found 
himself opposed to two enemies. It struck him at 
once that this was his proper course, If he wanted 
to come off victorious. 

As Tom and James advanced upon him, he 
feigned to retreat. 

“He’s afraid,” said Tom, In exultation. “Let’s 
give him a licking.” 


SINK OR SWIM 55 

James had no possible objection. Indeed, he 
felt that there was nothing he would enjoy so much 
as to see our hero humiliated. He would not have 
ventured to attack him alone, but now with Tom’s 
assistance there seemed to be an excellent oppor- 
tunity, such as might not again present itself. 

“Go ahead,” he called out. “I’ll help you.” 

Tom did go ahead. Being a faster runner than 
James, he found himself separated from him by a 
considerable distance in the impetuosity of his 
pursuit. 

Harry turned his head, and, seeing that his op- 
portunity had come, suddenly faced round upon his 
astonished adversary. 

Tom, unable to check himself, almost rushed 
into the arms of our hero. 

“Now defend yourself,” shouted Harry. 

So saying, he clinched Tom, who was too aston- 
ished to defend himself properly, and with a quick 
movement of the leg brought him down heavily 
upon the ground, with Harry on top. 

Lying on the ground. In such a position as to fit 
into the small of Tom’s back, was a stone about as 
large as the one he had thrown Into the basket of 
eggs. The sensation which resulted from falling 
upon It was by no means pleasant. 

“Oh!” he whined, “I’ve broken my backbone. 
Get off from me, Harry Raymond.” 


56 SINK OR SWIM 

guess you’ll get over It,” said Harry, who | 
knew that the hurt could not be very serious. | 

“Jim Turner !” shouted the fallen hero. I 

James, who had witnessed his friend’s discomfi- I 
ture, paused at a little distance. He began to doubt t 
whether It would be prudent to take an active part | 
In the hostilities. His confederate was disabled, J 
and he strongly suspected that Harry was more i 
than a match for him. Still he was rather ashamed ' 
to hold aloof. 

“Let him alone!” he called out from the place i 
where he stood, making no motion to advance. 

“Come and help me, Jim! You said you 
would,” said Tom. 

“I’ll have you arrested,” said James, preparing 
to war with his tongue. 

“Take him off!” entreated [Tom. 

Thus adjured, James advanced with liesitating 
steps to the rescue. He would rather have been 
excused, and had there been any decent pretext for 
giving up the undertaking he would have done so. 
But, though his sentiment of honor was not very 
keen, It did occur to him that It would be rather 
mean to leave Tom In the lurch, after he had urged 
him on to the assault with the promise of assist- 
ance. 

“Let him alone!” he exclaimed, reinforcing his 
falling courage with a little bluster, “or you’ll get 
the worst licking you ever had.” 


57 


SINK OR SWIM 

“Who’ll give It to me?” asked Harry, com- 
posedly. 

He had merely retained his position, pinning 
Tom to the ground, but not striking him; for he 
was too honorable to strike a prostrate foe. 

“I will,” said James, with a boldness of manner 
which did not by any means correspond to his In- 
ward feelings. 

So saying, he made a step or two In advance. In 
a threatening manner. 

Harry sprang up suddenly, and advanced upon 
his new foe. 

“I’m ready for you, James Turner,” he said, 
“now or at any other time. Come on. If you dare.” 

James paused In his advance. He did not like 
the position of affairs at all. He had never bar- 
gained to meet Harry In single combat, and now 
it appeared likely that he would have to do so. 

“Get up, Tom,” he called out. “The two of us 
can whip him soundly.” 

“I can’t do anything,” whined Tom. “My 
back’s most broke.” 

He rose slowly from the ground, and began with 
a rueful face to riib the Injured portion of his 
frame. 

Thus left to himself James saw that there was 
no backing out. He had provoked the contest, and 
must take the consequences. What these were 


58 SINK OR SWIM 

likely to be he was cheerfully reminded by Tom’s 
doleful face. He resolved to secure his co-opera- 
tion if possible. 

“Come along, Tom,” he urged. “Just help me 
a little, and I’ll manage him.” 

“I can’t,” said Tom, dismally. “That plaguey 
rock’s worn a hole in my back.” 

“I’ll stand you both,” said Harry, stoutly. 
You’ve served me a mean trick, and you ought to 
be punished.” 

Just then James noticed a stone about the size of 
bis list lying on the ground before him. It was a 
mean and cowardly impulse that led him to pick it 
up and fire it full at our hero’s head. Had it struck 
him, the injury would have been serious, if not 
fatal; but Harry quickly divined his intention, and 
dropped suddenly to the ground. The stone passed 
harmlessly over his head. 

“You shall pay for that, James Turner,” he said, 
angrily. “No one but a coward would do such a 
thing.” 

As he spoke he sprang forward, and grappled 
with his adversary. James, having a premonition 
of defeat, defended himself poorly, flinging out 
blows at random. In less than a minute he, too, 
was prostrate, with Harry on top. 

“Help!” he screamed, making desperate efforts 
to unseat his opponent. 


SINK OR SWIM 59 

But Harry held him down with a tight grip. 
Tom had had enough fighting, and did not stir to 
his assistance. 

“Get up, you ragamuffin !” he screamed. In fact 
he was more mortified that his defeat should have 
come from Harry Raymond than if his opponent 
had been of his own position. That a poor boy 
like Harry should treat with such indignity his 
father’s son was a gross outrage which filled him 
with vexation. 

“Let me up, you beggar!” he cried, again. 

“You’ll have to speak to me in a different style 
before I let you up,” said Harry, coolly, for he felt 
that the advantage was in his hands, and that it 
was for him to dictate terms of submission. 

“I called you by your right name,” said James, 
provoked beyond the limits of prudence. “You are 
a ragamuffin and a beggar.” 

“It strikes me that you are a beggar just now,” 
said our hero. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that you are begging me to let you up.” 

“If you don’t I’ll have you arrested,” said 
James, with another violent but Ineffectual struggle. 

“You’re welcome to do it,” said Harry. “Per- 
haps there’ll be something to say on my side as 
well as yours.” 

“If you don’t come and help me, Tom Barton, 


6o SINK OR SWIM 

ril never speak to you again,” said James, whose 
anger was now directed against his confederate. 

“I would if I could,” said Tom, “but my back’s 
too sore.” 

The fact was, that Tom’s back was not quite so 
much hurt as he wished to have it believed, but he 
had no inclination to attack Harry again. The 
ease with which he had been thrown, caused him to 
realize that Harry carried “too many guns for 
him,” as the phrase is; and, though he was ready to 
fawn upon James, he was not willing to compro- 
mise his personal safety for him. But a bright idea 
occurred to him. 

“I’ll go and call your father,” he said. 

James did not answer. He would rather have 
had Tom’s personal aid, but that he was not likely 
to obtain. Tom Barton, glad to get away, limped 
off towards the road. 

“Are you going to let me up ?” demanded James, 
fiercely. 

“That depends upon whether you behave your- 
self. Promise to fire no more stones at me.” 

“I won’t.” 

“You won’t fire any stones?” 

“No, I won’t promise.” 

“Very well. Then you may He here a little 
longer.” 

So the two remained in their old position. Five 
minutes passed, and James renewed his demand. 


SINK OR SWIM 6i 

“As soon as you will say that you won’t fire any 
more stones you shall get up.” 

“I don’t mean to,” said James, sullenly. 

“All right! That’s all I want,” said Harry; 
and he relaxed his hold upon his prostrate foe, and 
rose to his feet. 

James picked himself up, and glared at Harry 
with a look by no means friendly. 

“You shall pay for this,” he said. 

“Who is going to pay for the eggs you broke?” 
retorted our hero. 

“I didn’t break them.” 

“You approved it, at any rate.” 

“Yes, I did,” said James. 

“You probably didn’t know where I was carry- 
ing them.” 

“Where?” James condescended to ask. 

“To your house. I’ve lost enough time already, 
and must be getting back.” 

Harry hurried to the road, where he found the 
wagon safe under the charge of Will Pomeroy. 
Jumping in, he drove in haste to Squire Turner’s 
residence, and taking the basket of eggs carried 
them round to the side door, which was opened by 
Miss Murray, the housekeeper. 

“Here are some eggs from the store,” said 
Harry, holding out the basket. 

“Why, they’re all broke,” said the housekeeper, 
in dismay. 


62 


SINK OR SWIM 

“I know it,” said Harry. “If you want to know 
how it happened ask James.” 

“Well, I never!” ejaculated the housekeeper, 
mechanically taking the basket. “The squire’ll 
have to do without his omelet to-night, that’s sure.” 


SINK OR SWIM 




CHAPTER IX 
fire! 

James did not fail to make a report to his father 
of the outrage which he had received at the hands 
of Harry Raymond. Over the trick which Tom 
and he had played upon our hero he passed rather 
lightly. 

“It seems there were two of you/’ said the 
squire. “Why didn’t you give him such a lesson 
as he would have remembered?” 

“I would If Tom had stood by me.” 

“Why didn’t he?” 

“Oh, he pretended to be very much hurt,” said 
James. 

“Couldn’t you manage young Raymond alone?” 

“No ; he’s as strong as a bull. He’s had to work 
for a living, and that has given him muscle.” 

“Then you and Tom had better watch your 
chance, and give him a sound thrashing. I am per- 
fectly willing.” 

This was not quite what James wanted. The 


64 SINK OR SWIM 

result of the first contest had not been such as to 
encourage him much to renew it, even with Tom’s 
assistance, and this might fail him at a critical mo- 
ment, as on a former occasion. 

“Haven’t you got a mortgage on his mother’s 
place?” he asked, hesitating. 

“Well, what of it?” said the squire. 

“Can’t you call for the money, and if she can’t 
pay it turn her out of the house?” 

“I don’t care to do it at present,” said the squire. 
“You must settle your quarrel in some other way.” 

“Are you going to pay for the broken eggs?” 

“As long as you broke them, I can’t very well 
refuse.” 

“It wasn’t me. It was Tom.” 

“There’s little difference.” 

James was rather astonished at the moderate 
view which his father took of the matter. He had 
been fully convinced that the squire would sympa- 
thize with him in the affair, and be ready to join in 
any scheme to punish Harry Raymond for his inso- 
lence. Under ordinary circumstances, this was pre- 
cisely what his father would have done. But there 
was a secret cause for his present conduct, and this 
shall at once be explained. 

It has been said that Squire Turner had offered 
himself in marriage to Mrs. Raymond in early life, 
and that she had seen fit to decline his proposal. 
Both she and the squire had married, but now, by 


SINK OR SWIM 65 

the dispensation of Providence, she was a widow 
and he a widower. Though now thirty-six, Mrs. 
Raymond was still a handsome woman, and, if 
surrounded by the appliances of wealth, she would 
make a wife of whom any man might be proud. 
Certainly she presented a very favorable contrast 
to the late Mrs. Turner, who had a sour, acid 
visage, and a temper to match, as her husband had 
often experienced to his cost. There is reason to 
believe that when that amiable lady was removed 
by death her husband was not disconsolate, but con- 
soled himself with the fact that she could not carry 
away the property which she had brought him, and 

without which she would never have become Mrs. 

« 

Turner. 

Now the squire had had some vague thoughts 
that he might marry again, but no one in particular 
had occurred to him as worthy to fill the place of 
the late Mrs. Turner. But when Mrs. Raymond 
was suddenly left a widow, and the report of the 
lawyer in Milwaukee rendered it likely that she 
might come into possession of a considerable sum 
of money, it set the squire to thinking. 

Mrs. Raymond was still a young woman, and he 
had never got over the fancy he had felt for her in 
earlier years. Indeed, she was the only one that 
had ever touched the squire’s rather flinty heart. 
He had not even liked the late Mrs. Turner, which 
was not much to be wondered at, for it is doubtful 


66 SINK OR SWIM 

whether the warmest-hearted person could have felt 
much affection for so disagreeable a woman. He 
was rather pleased with the idea of offering his 
hand to his first love, especially if she could bring 
him a handsome addition to his present property. 
The chances of this he thought very fair. The 
lawyer had written very encouragingly, and he 
knew how rapidly real estate advanced in the West. 

There was one important question. Would Mrs. 
Raymond smile upon his suit, or would she repulse 
him as before? The squire thought with proper 
management he might secure her consent. She had 
outlived the period of romance ; there was no rival 
in the way, and for the sake of her children she 
would find it advisable to accept a proposal which 
would at once remove all pecuniary anxiety. Of 
course, if she knew of the probable value of the 
land warrant, that would make a great difference. 
But Squire Turner resolved to keep her in ignor- 
ance of this, until he had time to settle his matri- 
monial plans. 

It will now be understood why James failed to 
win his father’s co-operation in his schemes of re- 
taliation upon Harry. It was the squire’s cue to 
be friendly and conciliatory, even to our hero, who 
he suspected had considerable influence over his 
mother, and might use that influence to defeat his 
plans. In his secret heart, however, Squire Turner 


SINK OR SWIM 67 

disliked Harry not a little, and would have been 
very glad of any little disaster which might come 
to our hero. Should he receive a beating at the 
hands of Tom Barton and James, the squire would 
not be likely to censure either very much. 

That very evening something happened, which 
went far to increase the dislike and aversion of the 
squire to our hero, and in the end had considerable 
influence upon Harry’s career. 

It was between eleven and twelve o’clock that 
Mrs. Raymond came suddenly into Harry’s room, 
and waked him up. 

“Harry,” she said, in a tone of excitement, 
“Katy is taken sick, and is in great pain. I want 
you to put on your clothes at once, and go as fast 
as you can to Dr. Lamson’s.” 

Harry needed no second bidding. He could hear 
Katy moaning, and shared in his mother’s alarm. 
He dressed in “double quick time,” and set off by 
the nearest route for the house of Dr. Lamson. 

The doctor lived at a considerable distance. By 
the road it was full a mile and a quarter. But there 
was a way of cutting off frorri a quarter to a third 
of a mile by “cutting across lots.” This made the 
journey rather a dark and lonely one, especially as 
there was no moon, and there was but few stars out. 
Harry had a stout heart and a clear conscience, and 
was not easily daunted. Besides, he had his little 


68 SINK OR SWIM 

sister to think of, and this was enough to fill his 
mind to the exclusion of anything else. 

In due time he reached the doctor’s door, and 
knocked. He had to repeat his knock. Upon doing 
so the doctor put out his head from an upper 
window. 

“Who’s there?” he asked. 

“It’s I — Harry Raymond.” 

“Oh, it’s you, Harry. Anybody sick at home?” 

“Yes, my sister Katy. She is in a good deal of 
pain. Can you come right off?” 

“I’ll get ready at once. Will you stop and ride 
with me?” 

“No, thank you, doctor. I’ll run home and tell 
mother you’re coming.” 

“I may be there first, Harry. However, perhaps 
you will feel better to go.” 

The doctor knew that when a friend or relative 
is in danger, nothing is harder to bear than passive 
suspense, and that action is a relief. So he inter- 
posed no objections to Harry’s wish. 

Harry naturally decided to return by the same 
short cut by which he had come. On the way was 
a lonely old building, aloof from the road, but very 
near his path, which had recently fallen into pos- 
session of Squire Turner. It was not tenanted, and 
would require considerable repairs before it would 
be in order to receive tenants. Ten years before, it 
had been insured with a fire insurance company for 


SINK OR SWIM 69 

an amount below its value at that time. The in- 
surance had been kept up, but the value had so de- 
preciated that it would be a profitable thing for the 
proprietor if it should be consumed by fire. 

Squire Turner was aware of this, and in an evil 
hour, under the influence of cupidity, determined to 
set fire to his own building, in order to realize the 
insurance money. 

Being a lonely situation, he thought he should 
be able to set fire to the house, and return home 
before the village awoke to the fact that there was 
a fire, while there was not much chance of the 
wheezy old engine getting to the spot in time to 
arrest the conflagration. 

Harry was a few rods from the house when his 
attention was arrested by a sight which struck him 
with dismay. A man muffled in an overcoat was 
stooping over a basket of shavings. In a moment 
there was a tiny light, proceeding from a match. 
This was communicated to the shavings, which 
caught at once. The man threw the basket with its 
combustible contents into the house through a 
broken sash, and, after pausing a moment to judge 
whether it was likely to accomplish his purpose, 
turned swiftly away. His coat-collar was up, and 
his hat was drawn down over his face as he turned 
round. His amazement may be imagined when he 
found that the midnight incendiary was no other 
than Squire Turner himself. 


70 SINK OR SWIM 

“W^hat can it mean?” he thought, bewildered. 
Fifteen minutes later the house, which was a 
mere tinder-box, was in flames, and the startled vil- 
lagers, aroused from their slumbers, saw a bright 
flame reflected against the dark, midnight sky. 


SINK OR SWIM 


7 ^ 


CHAPTER X 

AFTER THE FIRE 

By the time the fire-engine reached the burning 
house, the flames were so far advanced that there 
was no chance of saving It. For form’s sake, a 
stream of water was thrown upon the flames from 
the well near by, but the supply was soon exhausted, 
and produced no effect whatever. So the engine 
was drawn back to the engine-house, the crowd dis- 
persed, and In place of the old house there was a 
heap of half-burnt rafters and cinders. 

The next day the fire was the topic of conversa- 
tion throughout the village. Being In the store, 
Harry had an opportunity of hearing it discussed 
by those who ‘‘dropped In” to make purchases. 

“Was the house Insured?” asked old Sam Til- 
den, filling the bowl of his pipe with tobacco, pre- 
paratory to having a comfortable smoke. 

“I reckon It was,” said another. “The squire’s 
a keerful man. He wouldn’t be likely to neglect 
it.” 


72 SINK OR SWIM 

“Here’s the squire himself. You can ask him,” 
said John Gaylord, the chief salesman, who was 
doing up half a dozen pounds of sugar for a cus- 
tomer. 

Harry, remembering what he had seen the night 
before, looked up with mingled feelings as he saw 
the rather stiff and stately form of Squire Turner 
enter the door. 

The squire, though not a good-looking man, was 
always carefully dressed. He regarded It as due to 
his position, and as no one else In the village except 
the minister and doctor were scrupulous on this 
point, he inspired a certain respect on this very 
account. So now, as he entered the store. In a 
decorous suit of black, with a stiff standing-collar 
rising above a glossy satin stock, swinging In his 
hand a gold-headed cane, those present looked to- 
wards him with considerable deference. 

“Well, squire,” said Sam Tilden, “you met with 
a misfortun’ last night.” 

“Yes,” said the squire, deliberately; “there was a 
clean sweep of the old house. There Isn’t much 
left of It.” 

“Have you any Idea who sot It on fire?” queried 
the old man. 

“No,” said the squire. “I came In to see If any 
one here could throw any light upon It.” 

There was one present who could have thrown 
some light upon It, and If Squire Turner had 


SINK OR SWIM 73 

chanced to look behind the counter he might have 
noticed a peculiar expression in the eyes of Harry 
Raymond, who was watching him fixedly. The 
fact is, Harry was very much perplexed in his mind 
in regard to the occurrence. Why a gentleman 
should steal out of his house in disguise at the dead 
of night to set fire to his own property was a ques- 
tion which was invested with not a little mystery. 
But before the conversation was finished he began 
to understand it better. 

“It must have been sot afire,” continued Sam 
Tilden, positively. “There wasn’t nobody livin’ 
In it.” 

“No; It had been empty for several months.” 

“You haint got no suspicions, I s’pose?” 

“Why, no,” said the squire, slowly. “I suppose 
it must have been somebody that had a grudge 
against me, and took this way to gratify it. But 
who it may be I haven’t an Idea.” 

“I reckon It was insured?” said Sam, Interroga- 
tively. 

“Yes,” said the squire, cautiously; “It was in- 
sured.” 

“I said It must be,” said one, who had spoken at 
an earlier stage In the conversation. “I knew, 
squire, you was too keerful a man to neglect it.” 

“It was insured when It came into my hands,” 
said Squire Turner, “and I have merely kept up 
the payments.” 


74 SINK OR SWIM 

“What was the figure?” 

“I really can’t be quite certain till I have looked 
at the policy,” said the squire. “I’ve got all my 
houses insured, and I can’t, without looking, tell 
exactly how much there is on each.” 

“That’s the advantage of owning only one 
house,” said Doctor Lamson, as he stepped in for 
a moment. “I’m not liable to make a mistake about 
my Insurance. In what company was your house 
insured. Squire Turner?” 

“In the Phoenix Mutual, I believe. By the way, 
Mr. Porter, you may send up a barrel of flour to 
my house. I believe we are nearly out.” 

“All right, squire. It shall go up In the course 
of the day.” 

“Good morning, gentlemen,” said the squire, 
walking out of the store. 

“I guess the squire won’t lose a cent,” said Sam 
Tllden, after he went out. “It’s likely the Insur- 
ance money will pay him handsome If the policy 
was took out years ago. I shouldn’t wonder If he’s 
glad the old house Is gone. It was awfully out of 
repair.” 

“Very likely you’re right,” said John Gaylord. 
“I’d rather have the money than the house, for my 
part.” 

For the first time a light came to Harry’s mind. 
He felt that he understood the whole matter now. 
Squire Turner didn’t want the house, which would 


SINK OR SWIM . 75 

require considerable outlay to make It habitable, 
and he did want the money for which It was in- 
sured. As the shortest way to secure this, he had 
himself set the house on fire. Now, no doubt, he 
meant to come upon the company for the amount 
of insurance money. To Harry’s mind this loo’:ed 
like a swindle, like obtaining money by false pre- 
tences. Yet here was Squire Turner, the richest 
man in the village, occupying a very prominent — 
Indeed the most important — position In town, who 
was actually going to carry oit this fraud. Nobody 
except he knew that the squire was himself the In- 
cendiary. What ought he to do about It? Should 
he allow the Insurance company to be swindled ? 

“Do you think Squire Turner will collect his in- 
surance money, Mr. Gaylord?” he asked of the 
chief clerk. 

“Do I think so? Of course he will. He’d be a 
fool if he didn’t.” 

“But people seem to think that the house wasn’t 
worth as much as the sum It was Insured for.” 

“Very likely not; but It was when it was Insured, 
and as the payments have been kept up regular, the 
insurance company can’t complain as I see.” 

“Suppose the man that set the house on fire 
should be caught?” 

“He’d be tried, and put In prison.” 

This gave Harry something new to think of. 
The Idea of Squire Turner’s being put in prison 


76 SINK OR SWIM 

was certainly a strange and startling one. Probably 
it made a difference as long as he owned the house 
himself. Still, if he claimed the Insurance money, 
that again made a difference. Harry felt puzzled 
again, and in thinking over the matter he made 
several ludicrous mistakes, among others asking a 
boy who came In for some molasses how many 
yards he would have, which led to a mirthful explo- 
sion from the young customer, who looked upon It 
as a brilliant joke. 

Not knowing wh?t to do, Harry did nothing. 
Two days afterwards our hero saw the following 
placard posted up on the outside of the store, on the 
left hand side of the door : 

“One Hundred Dollars Reward! — For In- 
formation that will lead to the discovery of the 
incendiary or incendiaries who set fire to the old 
Jackson farm-house, belonging to the subscriber, 
which was consumed on the evening of the nth 
Inst. Elihu Turner.” 

Harry read this placard with Interest. 

“I could claim that reward,” he said to himself; 
“but would Squire Turner think my Information 
worth paying for?” 


SINK OR SWIM 


77 


CHAPTER XI 

HARRY MAKES A CALL ON BUSINESS 

A FEW days later Harry heard that Squire Tur- 
ner had made a formal claim upon the Phoenix 
Mutual Insurance Company for two thousand dol- 
lars, the amount of his policy. On hearing this, he 
no longer hesitated as to his duty. He resolved to 
call upon the squire, and acquaint him with his 
Information upon the subject. Accordingly, one 
afternoon, he went up to Mr. Porter, and asked for 
two hours’ time. 

“What for?” queried the storekeeper. 

“I want to call on Squire Turner. I have a little 
business with him.” 

The storekeeper naturally supposed that the 
business related to the affairs of Harry’s mother, 
and gave permission, as business was generally 
slack about that time in the afternoon, but re- 
quested Harry to be back by half-past three. 

When Harry got started on his way to the resi- 
dence of the squire, he began to feel that his errand 


78 SINK OR SWIM 

was rather a delicate one. He, a mere boy, was 
about to intimate to a gentleman of high social 
position that he was a rascal — that was the plain 
English of it — and was conspiring to defraud an 
insurance company out of a considerable sum of 
money. It was rather a bold undertaking for a boy 
of fifteen. Perhaps Squire Turner might be so 
incensed as to kick him out of the house. Harry 
was a stout boy, but still, of course, he had not the 
strength to cope with a tall man like the squire. 
Had he been a timid boy, he would have shrunk 
from the encounter. But Harry was not timid. 
On the contrary, he was physically and morally 
brave, as anybody who knew him would readily 
testify. 

“Fll take the risk,” he said to himself, firmly. 
I don’t think Squire Turner will think it best to 
attack me.” 

He marched manfully up the front steps, and 
rang the bell. His summons was answered by a 
servant. 

“Is the squire in?” he asked. 

“Yes,” was the reply, and the girl indicated the 
door of the “office.” 

Harry knocked. 

“Come in,” said the squire, In his usual grating 
voice. 

Harry did go in. 

Squire Turner was seated at his desk. He had a 


SINK OR SWIM 79 

paper before him, which Harry rightly guessed was 
the fire Insurance policy. The squire had been 
examining It with considerable complacency. Two 
thousand dollars was a large sum even to him, and 
certainly a very handsome consideration for the old 
Jackson farm-house, which with the land around It 
he had got, by the foreclosure of a mortgage, at a 
decided bargain. How the company had ever been 
Induced to grant so large a sum on such a house, 
even In Its better days, was a wonder ; but insurance 
companies sometimes make mistakes as well as pri- 
vate Individuals, and this appeared to be one of 
them. 

For two thousand dollars, or a little more, the 
squire had been thinking he could build a nice 
modern house, v/hich would make the farm salable 
at a considerably higher figure than before. This 
was a very pleasant prospect, of course, and the 
harsh lines In the squire’s face were smoothed out 
to a certain extent as he thought of It. 

When he turned, at the opening of the door, and 
saw who his visitor was, he naturally concluded that 
Harry had come about the land warrant. 

“I haven’t heard anything more about your 
mother’s Western land,” he said. “When I do I 
will let you know.” 

“Thank you,” said Harry; “but that is not what 
I have come about.” 


8o 


SINK OR SWIM 

“Very well,” said the squire, a little surprised; 
“you can state your business.” 

At this moment James Turner came in hastily. 

“Father, I want a dollar,” he said. 

“What for?” 

“To buy a bat and ball.” 

“Wait a minute or two. I am busy.” 

James looked at Harry, superciliously, as if to 
imply that his business could not be of any particu- 
lar importance, and took a seat. 

“You may state your business,” said the squire. 

“I beg your pardon,” said Harry, looking to- 
wards James, “but my business is private.” 

“Perhaps he wants to complain of me,” thought 
James, “about the eggs. If he does he won’t make 
much.” 

“I am not aware of any business between us,” 
said the squire, with dignity, “which is of too pri- 
vate a nature to discuss before my son. I will, how- 
ever, stretch a point to oblige you, and request him 
to leave the room.” 

“It isn’t on my account, but on yours,” said our 
hero, bluntly, “that I wish to speak privately.” 

Squire Turner looked at Harry in cold displeas- 
ure not unmingled with surprise, at what he felt to 
be a liberty. 

“That’s a strange remark,” he said. “However, 
James, you may leave the room. Here is the 
money.” 


SINK OR SWIM 8 1 

“You have offered a reward, Squire Turner, for 
information about the fire the other evening,’^ said 
Harry, when they were alone, thinking it best to 
plunge into the subject at once. 

“Yes, a hundred dollars’ reward,” said the 
squire. “Do you know anything about it?” 

“I do,” said Harry, promptly. 

Squire Turner was taken by surprise. What 
could Harry know about the fire and its origin? 
He himself knew all about it; but of course that 
knowledge was locked up in his own breast. In 
offering the reward he felt sure that it would not 
be claimed, and, under the circumstances, he felt 
that it was well to offer it. It would impress the 
fire company favorably, as showing his determina- 
tion to ferret out the secret incendiary, and there- 
fore he had forwarded a handbill containing a copy 
of his offer to the office of the Phoenix Mutual, 
together with his claim for the amount of insurance 
money. 

Fiarry’s prompt answer led to a suspicion in the 
squire’s mind that our hero was trying to get the 
reward on false pretences. 

“The money will only be given for positive in- 
formation leading to the discovery of the incendi- 
ary,” he said, coldly. 

“I can give you such information,” said Harry, 
with the same promptness as before. 


82 


SINK OR SWIM 

“Perhaps,” said the squire, with a sneer, “you 
can tell who set the house on fire.” 

“I can,” said Harry, distinctly. 

“Who did it?” asked the squire, beginning to 
feel nervous. 

“Squire Turner,” said our hero, feeling that the 
crisis had come, “you have asked me the question, 
and of course you wish me to answer it truly.” 

“Of course,” muttered the squire, whose ner- 
vousness increased. 

“Then,” said Harry, firmly, “yoM set the house 
on fire yourself 

The words were like a thunderbolt. The squire 
started to his feet, his face livid with fear, and then 
purple with excitement. 

“How dare you say such a scandalous thing?” 
he exclaimed. 

“Because you expect me to tell the truth,” said 
Harry. “If you will listen, I will tell you how I 
came to know.” 

Hereupon he gave an account, in as few words 
as possible, of his midnight visit to the house of 
Doctor Lamson, of his passing near the house, and 
identifying the squire in the act of setting fire to 
some shavings. Squire Turner listened, evidently 
in a state of nervous excitement, fidgeting about in 
a manner which indicated his mental disturbance. 
When Harry had finished, he spoke. 

“This is the most impudent fabrication I ever 


SINK OR SWIM 83 

heard. You mean to charge that I — a rich man, 
and, if I say It myself, universally respected — actu- 
ally set fire to my own house at the dead of night?” 

“I do,” said Harry, firmly. 

“I have a great mind to kick you out of my 
house,” said the squire, violently. 

“I don’t think you will do it. Squire Turner,” 
said Harry, who did not show a trace of alarm. 

“Why not?” 

“Because I have told the truth, and you know 
It,” said our hero, “and If I told It outside, people 
might believe It.” 

“What would your word weigh against mine?” 
said the squire, but his tone was more confident than 
his feeling. 

“I never told a lie, as everybody In the village 
will testify,” said Harry, proudly. “Of course It 
Is an object for you to deny It.” 

The squire began to see that the overbearing 
policy was not exactly the one to pursue In this case. 
Harry was not to be frightened easily, and this he 
realized. Besides, there were other reasons why he 
did not wish to fall out with our hero. Accordingly 
he thought proper to change his tone. 

“My young friend,” he said, with a very signifi- 
cant change of tone and manner, “you are certainly 
under a very strange delusion. I should be angry, 
but I am rather disposed to be amused. You would 


84 SINK OR SWIM 

only be laughed at if you should spread abroad such 
a ridiculous tale.” 

“It’s true,” persisted Harry. 

“Consider a moment,” said Squire Turner, with 
commendable patience, “the nature of your charge. 
It is rather absurd that I should set fire to my own 
building — isn’t it, now? What possible object 
could I have in so doing?” 

“The insurance,” briefly answered Harry. 

“Yes,” said Squire Turner, slowly; “the house 
was insured, to be sure, but they don’t insure to the 
full value.” 

“Everybody says that the house was insured for 
more than its full value.” 

“Quite a mistake. I would rather have the house 
than the money. In fact, it was quite a disappoint- 
ment having the house burnt down.” 

“I don’t know about that,” said Harry, sturdily. 
“All I know is, that I saw you setting the house on 
fire with my own eyes.” 

Perspiration began to come out on the squire’s 
brow. He had never anticipated such an obstacle 
to the carrying out of his plans, and it did seem a 
little provoking when everything had seemed so 
favorable hitherto. He would like to have pitched 
our hero out of the window, or kicked him out of 
the house; but neither course seemed quite expedi- 
ent. So, though boiling over with inward wrath 
and vexation, he forced himself to be conciliatory. 


SINK OR SWIM 85 

“I have no doubt you think you are right/’ he 
said; “but in the evening one is easily deceived 
about faces. I was fast asleep at the time, and, 
indeed, I knew nothing of the fire till my house- 
keeper came and knocked at my door when it was 
nearly over.” 

This was partly true; but the squire didn’t say 
that it was just after he had crept stealthily into 
the house. 

“Still, as I am a friend of your family, and in- 
terested in your welfare,” he continued, “I don’t 
mind giving you the hundred dollars, not, of 
course, as a reward, but to help you along. Of 
course it is on condition that you say nothing of 
this ridiculous story. It would only involve you in 
trouble. Come up to-morrow and I’ll give you the 
money.” 

“Squire Turner,” said Harry, promptly, “I can- 
not accept your proposition, or money.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because my story, whether ridiculous or not, is 
true. I don’t care for the reward; I didn’t come 
up here to get it.” 

“What did you come for?” 

“I came to prevent your coming upon the insur- 
ance company for that money. If you will promise 
not to ask for the money, I will never say a word 
about how the fire came about.” 

“I can’t promise that,” said the squire; “but be- 


86 SINK OR SWIM 

fore claiming the Insurance I will let you know. In 
the meantime you had better keep the story to your- 
self.” 

“I will,” said Harry; and, rising, he left the 
room, leaving the squire In a very uncomfortable 
and unsatisfactory state of mind. 


SINK OR SWIM 


87 


CHAPTER XII 

HARTLEY BRANDON 

When the squire was left alone, he began rather 
ruefully to think over the unexpected turn which 
affairs had taken. If he had disliked Harry before, 
he hated him now. He felt that the sturdy deter- 
mination of our young hero was likely to place him 
In a very unpleasant dilemma. If he should not 
collect the Insurance money, the house would be a 
total loss, and this would be very provoking. If he 
should collect It, he had every reason to believe that 
Harry would keep his word; and, as he was a boy 
of truth, many would no doubt believe him, and the 
insurance company would be sure to stir In the 
matter. There was another consideration. If he 
guiltily let the matter pass, and failed to make his 
claim, or recalled it — for It was already made — It 
would excite a great deal of surprise, and perhaps 
suspicion, and thus again he would be disagreeably 
situated. There seemed to be only a choice of diffi- 


88 


SINK OR SV/IM 

cultles, as the squire realized. He fervently wished 
now that he had never burnt the house down. But 
it was done, and could not be undone. 

“I wish the young rascal was out of the way,” he 
muttered to himself. 

He wished it the more because Harry stood in 
the way of another plan which he had in view, 
namely, marrying Mrs. Raymond, in case the 
Western property proved as valuable as he antici- 
pated. He had an instinctive feeling that our hero 
would not fancy him for a step-father, and would 
exert all his influence over his mother to prevent 
her accepting him, even if she might otherwise be 
willing. 

“Plague take the young whelp!” muttered the 
squire. “I wish he was in Nova Zembla, or some- 
where else, where he would never come back.” 

His uncomfortable reflections were here broken 
in upon by the entrance of the servant. 

“There’s a man at the door wants to see you. 
Squire Turner.” 

“Who is it?” 

“It’s a stranger.” 

“Well, tell him to come in.” 

The invitation was duly given, and directly there 
entered a tall man, very seedy in his appearance, 
with a repulsive aspect, who looked as if the world 
and he had not been on good terms for some time. 


SINK OR SWIM 89 

He was probably about the same age as Squire 
Turner — that is, fifty — ^but looked still older, prob- 
ably in consequence of the life he had led. 

Squire Turner looked at the intruder in surprise. 

“How do you do. Squire Turner?” said the 
stranger, familiarly. 

“You have the advantage of me,” said the 
squire, coldly. 

“Yet you used to know me well,” was the reply, 
as the visitor sat down uninvited. 

“I don’t know you now. Who are you?” de- 
manded Squire Turner, who didn’t feel it necessary 
to use much ceremony with a man so evidently 
under the frowns of fortune. 

“I am your cousin. Hartley Brandon.” 

Squire Turner started. 

“Hartley Brandon !” he repeated, in amazement. 
“I thought you were dead years ago.” 

“And wished it, no doubt,” said the other, with 
a laugh. “Confess now you are not very glad to 
see me.” 

“I am not very glad to see you, as you are sharp 
enough to guess,” said the squire, with a sneer. 
“You are not a relative to be proud of.” 

“True enough,” said the other. “I see you are 
not afraid of hurting my feelings. However, I’ve 
had so many hard rubs that my feelings have got 
worn off, if I ever had any.” 


90 SINK OR SWIM 

“What is your object in coming down here, for 
I suppose you have an object?” 

“Suppose I say that it is for the sake of seeing 
about the only relative I have in the world. There’s 
something in that, you know.” 

“Not in this case. We may be cousins, but we 
are not friends, and never will be.” 

“Come, that’s frank — true, too, I dare say,” said 
Hartley Brandon, who didn’t appear by any means 
disturbed at the coldness of the squire. “Well, as 
you say, it wasn’t that. Blood’s thicker than water, 
they say, but there are plenty of people I like better 
than you, who are my cousin.” 

“That is a matter of perfect indifference to me,” 
said the squire, coldly. “I don’t want to know what 
your object is not, but what it is.” 

“I am rather seedy, as you see.” 

“So it appears.” 

“This shabby suit, with half a dollar, constitutes 
all my worldly possessions.” 

“Supposing it to be so, what is that to me?” 

“Can’t you help me a little?” 

The squire’s mouth tightened, as it always did 
when there was an attack on his purse-strings. He 
seldom gave away money, unless he thought it 
would help him in some way, and he felt even more 
than usually unwilling to do so at a time when, 
owing to Harry’s obduracy, he was threatened with 


SINK OR SWIM 91 

a serious loss. No poorer time could have been 
selected by his cousin for his application than this. 

“I can do nothing for you,” he said, coldly. 

*‘I don’t mean you to give me money,” said Bran- 
don. “I only want an advance of thirty or forty 
dollars, which I will faithfully repay you with in- 
terest.” 

Squire Turner laughed scornfully. 

“What security can you offer?” he asked. 

“None at all, except my word.” 

“That isn’t satisfactory.” 

“I thought you’d say so; but listen, and I will 
tell you how the matter stands. First, I suppose 
you would like to know how I have been employed 
for the last twenty odd years.” 

“You may tell or not, just as you like. I feel no 
particular interest in the matter.” 

“I have followed the sea — I see you are sur- 
prised; but this is the way It happened. Twenty- 
five years since I found myself high and dry in New 
York, with no resources, and nobody to look to for 
help. In my distress I fell in with a sailor, who 
treated me kindly, and proposed to me to adopt his 
profession. It was not particularly to my taste, and 
I knew It was rather late in life to begin; but I had 
no other resource, and I allowed myself to be per- 
suaded. I had a hard time of It at first, as you may 
suppose, but after a while I became acquainted with 
my duties, and turned out a very fair sailor. Being 


92 SINK OR SWIM 

possessed of a better education than belongs to the 
generality of seamen, I found myself able to rise. 
On the second voyage, I shipped third mate. Then 
I rose to second mate ; finally to first mate. I might 
have become captain if I had been a little more 
steady, but a fondness for drink stood in the way 
of my advancement.” 

“So you have been a sailor for twenty-five 
years?” 

“Yes.” 

“It was no doubt the best thing you could do. 
You don’t think of giving it up?” 

“No.” 

“Then I don’t see what I can do for you.” 

“I’ve a chance to sail as mate next week in the 
ship Sea Eagle bound for China.” 

“Why don’t you go, then?” 

“Because there’s a trifle in the way. I owe 
twenty-five dollars in New York, and if I don’t pay 
it up square the party’ll put a spoke in my wheel, 
and prevent my getting the situation.” 

“So you want me to advance you the necessary 
money?” 

“Yes, I’ll pay you back at the end of the voy- 
age.” 

“Do you know the captain under whom you are 
to sail?” asked the squire, thoughtfully. 

“Yes, a little.” 


93 


SINK OR SWIM 

“What sort of a man is he?” 

“Oh, an average sort of a man — rather a Tar- 
tar, so I hear from some who have sailed under 
him. He likes his ease, and leaves the vessel pretty 
much in the hands of his first officer.” 

A train of reflection had been started in the 
squire’s mind by the communication of his kinsman. 
He wanted to be rid of Harry Raymond. Why 
could he not arrange with Hartley Brandon to 
smuggle him off to sea, where he would be out of 
the way of interfering with his plans ? It might be 
difficult to manage, but no doubt some way would 
suggest itself. As for Brandon, there was no fear 
of his refusing. He was not troubled with scruples, 
and a small sum of money would buy his co- 
operation. 

Then, again, the sea was a treacherous element. 
Accidents were frequent. Should Harry once em- 
bark on Its smooth but fickle expanse, he might 
never come back again, or, if he did, it might be to 
find him, the squire, his mother’s second husband, 
and the relationship would seal his lips from dis- 
closing the secret of which he had become pos- 
sessed. 

All these thoughts passed through the squire’s 
mind much more quickly than I have been able to 
state them. The plan which has been briefly sketch- 
ed seemed the only way out of the labyrinth in 


94 SINK OR SWIM 

which he had become involved, and he resolved to 

make a trial of it. 

“Well, will you help me ?” asked Brandon, grow- 
ing impatient of his kinsman’s silence. 

“I will,” answered the squire, “upon conditions.” 

“Name them,” said Brandon, brightening up. 


SINK OR SWIM 


95 


CHAPTER XIII 

A LETTER FROM NEW YORK 

It is unnecessary to detail the conversation which 
took place between Squire Turner and Hartley 
Brandon, since the nature of it may be guessed 
from the events which followed. As might be ex- 
pected, Brandon was by no means squeamish, and 
made no objection to what was proposed. In- 
deed, he made an occasional suggestion which was 
adopted by his kinsman. The squire did not, of 
course, think it politic to reveal the real causes of 
his hostility to Harry, nor of the reasons which he 
had for desiring that the boy should be out of the 
way. 

He wab too cautious a man for this, and more- 
over had too little confidence in Brandon, whom he 
regarded as an unprincipled fellow, being in this 
opinion not far from right. He merely said that 
he had reasons for wishing Harry out of the way^ 
and expressed his willingness, should matters turn 
out satisfactorily, not only to make Hartley a pres- 


96 SINK OR SWIM 

ent advance of fifty dollars, but to pay him over a 

further sum of five hundred when the affair was 

over, besides what might be needed for preliminary 

expenses. 

To the shiftless vagabond, who had been tossing 
about the ocean for a quarter of a century, five hun- 
dred dollars was a large sum, though we may con- 
sider It a trifling compensation for an act of vil- 
lainy. So he readily promised the squire his co- 
operation. 

“It Is best that you should leave Vernon at once,” 
said the squire, when the arrangements between 
them were concluded. 

“Why?” asked Brandon, rather disappointed, 
for he fully expected to be the squire’s guest till the 
next day. 

“Because It won’t do for you to be seen by the 
boy. He would recognize you when you meet In 
the city, and this might lead him to suspect some- 
thing wrong.” 

“What do you want me to do?” 

“I will have my horse harnessed to the carryall, 
and will take you over to the Wrexham station, 
where you can take the cars for the city. 

“What time do the cars start?” 

“In a couple of hours. We have no time to 
lose.” 

“Have you got anything eatable In the house? 


SINK OR SWIM 97 

I’m almost famished. Haven’t eaten anything 
since early this morning.” 

“I will look to that. Stay here, or rather I will 
lead the way upstairs. Some one might be in. How 
will some beefsteak suit you?” 

“Just the thing. Only let there be plenty of it. 
I’ve got a famous appetite.” 

Brandon was conducted upstairs to a back room 
on the second floor, where the squire suggested that 
he might as well fill up a portion of the time till 
lunch by brushing his clothes, and performing ablu- 
tions which appeared to be needful. He then went 
downstairs to give the necessary directions to Mrs. 
Murray. 

“Broil some beefsteak and plenty of it,” said the 
squire. “You may boil two or three eggs also, and 
send up a loaf of bread and some butter.” 

“Where shall I set the table?” asked Mrs. 
Murray. 

“Never mind about a table. You can carry all 
up on a waiter to the back chamber when ready.” 

Seeing that the housekeeper looked surprised, he 
added, in rather an embarrassed way : 

“The fact is, the man was a schoolmate of mine, 
who hasn’t turned out very well. Out of pity, I 
am going to help him a little, but don’t care about 
his being seen in my house.” 

This seemed plausible enough, particularly when 
Mrs. Murray saw Brandon, who certainly looked 


98 SINK OR SWIM 

very much like one who had not turned out very 
well. The rapid manner in which the abundant 
meal melted away under his vigorous attacks was 
certainly a tribute to the culinary skill of the house- 
keeper, who was led to form a more favorable esti- 
mate of the shabby stranger in consequence. 

In a little more than half an hour Squire Turner 
was on his way to Wrexham, Brandon occupying a 
back seat. They reached the depot ten minutes 
before the train arrived, so that there was ample 
time to buy a ticket. 

So the train was set in motion that was to lead to 
important changes in the life of our young hero. 
These it shall be our task gradually to unfold, and 
set on record. 

Four days passed quietly. The villagers had 
ceased to talk of the fire, as another exciting occur- 
rence had succeeded. Deacon Watson had been 
thrown out of his carriage and broken his leg, and 
the details of this accident were still fresh in the 
mouths of all. 

Harry pursued the even tenor of his way in his 
new position, trying to make himself as useful as 
possible, and succeeding to the satisfaction of his 
employer. Always prompt, always reliable, Mr. 
Porter felt that in spite of his youth he fully filled 
the place of Alfred Harper, whose temporary loss 
he now regarded with equanimity. 

Harry was weighing some sugar for a customer 


SINK OR SWIM 99 

one afternoon when John Gaylord, who had just 
got through sorting the mail, said to him : “Here’s 
a letter for your mother, mailed at New York.” 

“Let me see It,” said Harry, who felt some curi- 
osity as to who might have written to his mother, 
for her correspondence was very limited. 

He took the letter In his hand, and looked at the 
direction. It was In a dashing business-hand, quite 
unknown to him, and revealed nothing. 

“I will take It home when I go to supper,” he 
said. 

“Has your mother got friends In New York?” 
asked Gaylord. 

“Not that I know of. I don’t recognize the 
handwriting.” 

“Maybe It’s a lawyer’s letter. Informing her of a 
legacy,” said the senior clerk, jocosely. 

“Very probable,” said Harry, smiling. 

It was already the hour when he usually returned 
for supper. Accordingly he put on his cap and 
went out of the store. Being a little curious as to 
the contents of the letter, he hastened his steps, and 
entered the house out of breath. 

“You’re a little early,” said his mother. “Supper 
Isn’t quite ready.” 

“I hurried, because a letter came by this after- 
noon’s mall. It’s mailed at New York.” 

“New York!” repeated Mrs. Raymond, In sur- 
prise. “Who can it be from ?” 


100 


SINK OR SWIM 

“I don’t know. Haven’t you any friends there?” 

“Not that I know of. Harry, you may take up 
the tea and toast, while I am reading the letter.” 

She tore open the envelope, and first, as was natu- 
ral, turned to the bottom of the second page, and 
read the name appended to the letter. 

“Lemuel Fairchild!” she repeated, thoughtfully. 
“I don’t recall the name.” 

“Read it aloud, mother,” said Harry. 

She complied with his request. 

This is the way the letter read : 

“No. — Nassau Street, Room 7. 

“New York, Nov. 7, 18 — . 

“Dear Madam : Though personally a stranger 
to you, I knew your husband well, and have heard 
with the deepest regret of his sad fate. We had 
not met for years, but I have always cherished a 
warm regard .for him, though on account of the 
absorption of my time by important business I have 
not been able to keep up a correspondence with him. 
But, without further preface, I will come to my 
object in writing. 

“If I remember rightly, you have a son who 
must now be a boy of sixteen or thereabouts. No 
doubt you are anxious to get him into some kind of 
employment. In the country I am aware desirable 
opportunities are rare, and I presume you are at a 
loss how to secure him one. Now, I am desirous 


lOI 


SINK OR SWIM 

of taking a boy, and training him in my own busi- 
ness. Having no one in view, it has occurred to me 
that it might be a pleasant arrangement for you, as 
well as for me, if I should take your son. I ma^ 
add that I am a commission merchant, doing a 
large business. Can you send him up at once ? As 
to wages, I will give him twelve dollars a week at 
first. He will not earn half that, but I shall feel 
that, in overpaying him, I shall be assisting the 
widow and son of my old friend. 

“Yours very truly, 

“Lemuel Fairchild. 

“If you accept my proposal, I should like to see 
your son at my office some time Monday.” 

Mrs. Raymond looked at Harry in perplexity, 
after finishing the letter. 

“Lemuel Fairchild,” she repeated. “It is strange 
I never heard your father speak of him.” 

“Perhaps he may have done so, and you do not 
recall the name.” 

“It may be so,” said Mrs. Raymond, slowly, 
“but I do not think so.” 

“At any rate,” said Harry, “it’s a splendid offer. 
Think of earning twelve dollars a week, to begin 
with, in New York!” 

“Yes, it’s a good offer, but how can I spare 
you?” said his mother, sorrowfully. “It will be 


102 SINK OR SWIM 

very lonely without you. Don’t you think you had 
better remain In Mr. Porter’s store?” 

“That will only be for a few weeks, you know, 
mother. Alfred Harper will be getting well before 
long, and then I shall be out of a situation. I think 
we had better say yes.” 

Harry’s ambition was fired by the prospect of a 
place in the city. Like many another country boy 
he had the most splendid visions of what city life 
was. By the side of a position in a city office his 
present situation looked mean and contemptible. 
Even had the pay been the same, he would have 
preferred New York to Vernon; but the fact that 
the salary offered in the city was just double was an 
additional inducement. Why, John Gaylord, Mr. 
Porter’s chief salesman, though already twenty-five 
years of age, and with several years’ experience as 
clerk, received just that, and no more. That Harry 
should be offered the same salary at fifteen was In- 
deed a compliment. 

“I expect board Is higher In the city,” said Mrs. 
Raymond. 

“Yes, I suppose It Is; but next year I shall proba- 
bly have my pay raised. Who knows but I may 
get Into the firm some day,” said Harry, glowing 
with enthusiasm, “and make money hand over 
hand? Then I can take a nice house In the city, 
and you and Katy can come up and live with me. 
Won’t that be nice?” 


SINK OR SWIM 103 

Mrs. Raymond confessed that it would be nice. 
Still she did not like to let Harry go. But he gradu- 
ally won her to his side, and she admitted that there 
was something in his arguments. So, before he 
went back to the store, it was virtually agreed be- 
tween them that the offer was not one to be refused. 

“Let me take the letter, mother,’’ said Harry. 
“I would like to show it to Mr. Gaylord and Mr. 
Porter.” 


104 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER XIV 

HARRY ARRIVES IN THE CITY 

On going back to the store, Harry showed the 
senior salesman the letter his mother had received. 

Now John Gaylord was In the main a good- 
natured young man, but he was not without the 
fallings ihcldent to humanity. It happened that he 
had himself been secretly desirous of going to the 
city, and obtaining some position which promised 
better than that of chief salesman In a country 
store. But he had no friends to help him In New 
York, and he was wise enough to feel that It would 
not be expedient to throw up a fair place in the 
country for the uncertain prospect of one In the 
city. But, for all that, he used to think oftentimes 
that his business abilities deserved something better 
than weighing out tea and sugar In small quantities 
for country customers. So when he learned that 
Harry Raymond, an Inexperienced boy, had re- 
ceived an offer which he would gladly have ac- 
cepted himself, he naturally felt a little envious, 
and provoked with Harry for his good fortune. 


SINK OR SWIM 105 

‘‘What do you think of it, Mr. Gaylord?’* asked 
Harry. 

“I think you had better stay where you are,” was 
the unsatisfactory reply. 

This was rather a damper to Harry, who had 
expected to be congratulated. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Because you’re a mere boy, and can’t expect to 
earn twelve dollars a week.” 

“No, I don’t suppose I shall at first; but then, 
you see, Mr. Fairchild was a friend of my father.” 

“But, when he finds that you don’t earn your 
money, he’ll get dissatisfied with you, and send you 
home.” 

“I don’t know about that,” said Harry, stoutly. 
“I mean to do my best.” 

“You have no experience.” 

“I shall get it.” 

“Oh, well, suit yourself,” said the young man; 
“only if it turns out as I tell you, you mustn’t be 
surprised.” 

Harry made no reply, being rather offended at 
the manner in which his communication had been 
received. He did not suspect that John Gaylord 
was secretly envying him all the while, and con- 
trasting his own poor prospects very discontentedly 
with Harry’s. But he was not in the least dis- 
couraged. He had faith in himself, and felt sure 
that if he did his best, as he meant to, he should get 


io6 SINK OR SWIM 

on v/ell enough. He gave Mr. Porter notice that 
he should leave him at the end of the week. The 
latter congratulated him on his good prospects, and 
expressed satisfaction with his services while in his 
employ. 

The next day, as if by accident. Squire Turner 
entered the store, and, advancing to the counter 
behind which Harry was standing, said with un- 
usual graciousness : 

“Well, my young friend, how are you getting 
on?” 

“Very well, thank you, sir,” said Harry. 

“I think Mr. Porter may find it for his interest 
to engage you permanently.” 

“I have accepted another situation,” said our 
hero, with a little excusable importance. 

“Indeed!” said the squire, in assumed surprise. 
“In Vernon?” 

“No, sir, in New York.” 

“I am surprised to hear it. It is not easy to 
obtain a situation in the city. How did you hear 
of it?” 

“A friend of my father’s, a commission mer- 
chant in Nassau Street, wrote to my mother, yes- 
terday, offering it to me.” 

“What is his name? I may know him.” 

“Lemuel Fairchild.” 

“Lemuel Fairchild,” repeated the squire, slowly. 


SINK OR SWIM 107 

“I don’t recognize the name. So you are going to 
accept It?” 

“Yes, I am going up Monday morning. I am 
to have twelve dollars a week.” 

“An excellent salary. Well, I am glad to hear 
you are so fortunate. When I go up to the city I 
will call and see how you are getting along. What 
Is the number?” 

Harry gave the address, which the squire copied 
down In his pocketbook, and with a friendly salu- 
tation left the store. He had found out what he 
wanted to know, that the decoy letter had been re- 
ceived, and that the plan was likely to work well. 

“He has swallowed the bait,” he said to himself, 
with satisfaction. “I hope the rest of the plan will 
work as well. I shall not dare to draw my Insur- 
ance money till he Is out of the way.” 

The cordial manner of the squire Impressed 
Harry rather favorably. In fact, he felt very much 
puzzled about him. It seemed hard to believe that 
he was meditating a fraud upon the Insurance com- 
pany. But, as might be expected, his own affairs 
occupied the greater portion of his thoughts, which 
was just what Squire Turner wished. The change 
in his mode of life was so great and so Important 
that he could scarcely think of anything else. Be- 
sides, there were preparations to be made for his 
departure. He needed a new suit of clothes. It 
would be Inconvenient to pay for them now, but the 


io8 SINK OR SWIM 

village tailor readily promised to give him a four 
weeks’ credit until he should be able to pay him out 
of his wages in his new place. This suit was to cost 
twenty dollars, and so good progress was made in 
getting it ready that Harry was able to wear it on 
Sunday to church, where he received the congratu- 
lations of his friends and school-mates. 

As Harry had never been to New York, he was 
placed under the care of a gentleman who proposed 
going to the city on Monday. 

He was up bright and early, having slept little, 
if the truth must be told, on account of the excite- 
ment which he felt. His mother was up, of course, 
also, and prepared a better breakfast than usual. 

“I don’t know how I shall get along without you, 
Harry,” she said, despondently. “The house will 
be lonely.” 

“Oh, I’ll come home soon to pass Sunday, 
mother,” said Harry. “Besides, you shall hear 
from me; I’ll write twice a week, regularly. Then 
you’ll know I’m doing well.” 

“I’m afraid you’ll get run over in the streets; 
they are so crowded with wagons.” 

Harry only laughed at this. 

“Don’t fear,” he said. “I’m old enough to take 
care of myself. You forget how old I am, mother.” 

“You’re only fifteen.” 

“A boy of fifteen ought to be smart enough not 
to get run over. You see, mother, you’re a woman. 


SINK OR SWIM 109 

and don’t know much about boys. I’ll do well 
enough, and you’ll feel better about my going away 
soon.” 

What Harry said was partly true. If the situa- 
tion which he intended to fill had been a genuine 
one, his pluck and good principle would have been 
likely to insure his success. But he little knew what 
a plot had been formed against him, and what a 
series of adventures lay before him ere he would 
again see his mother and home. Could he have 
foreseen all this, brave as he was, he might well 
have quailed. But he supposed that all was fair 
and aboveboard, and that he would have nothing 
to encounter beyond the usual experiences of a boy 
in a city counting-room. 

Time never waits for any one, and the hour of 
parting came. Harry hastily embraced his mother 
and little sister, and with a certain swelling of the 
heart which he could not quite repress, hurried out 
Into the road to the carriage which was to convey 
him to the railroad station. 

Mr. Falkland, his companion, was not a resident 
of Vernon, but had visited the place on business, 
and had readily undertaken to act as Harry’s guar- 
dian as far as the city. He spoke civilly to our 
hero, and asked him how he expected to like the 
city. But after getting into the cars, he took out a 
book and began to read. Harry took a seat behind, 
where he could look out of the window, and was 


no SINK OR SWIM 

sufficiently interested in watching the varied scenery 
through which he was whirled rapidly by the cars. 
His spirits began to rise once more, and bright 
dreams of the success he was going to achieve in the 
city swept across his mental vision. He was unde- 
cided whether, when he got rich, which he confi- 
dently hoped to be at twenty-five, he would install 
his mother in a nice house in the city, or build a 
house for her in Vernon, say as large as Squire 
Turner’s. However, as he wisely concluded, there 
was no immediate necessity for deciding about this. 
He might leave it subject to further reflection. 

So the train whirled on at the rate of twenty-five 
miles an hour, and in about two hours he found the 
houses growing more and more numerous, until the 
cars came to a final pause in the New York depot. 

Mr. Falkland put his book into his carpet-bag. 

“You have never been in the city before, I 
think,” he said. 

“No, sir.” 

“Then, of course, you don’t know the way any- 
where. I’ll go with you at once to Nassau Street 
(that’s the place, I believe), and then you’ll be all 
right.” 

Harry was a little bewildered by the strangeness 
and novelty of the scenes to which he was intro- 
duced. So this was the great city of which he had 
heard so much. It was here that he was to work 
his way. Most boys would have felt a momentary 


SINK OR SWIM III 

depression and loss of confidence, but Harry had a 
good deal of faith and courage. 

“Plenty of men succeed here,” he said to him- 
self; “and I’m bound to succeed, too.” 

Just then his courage was reinforced by the 
thought of his motto, and he repeated to himself, 
“ ‘Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish,’ ” 
closing the quotation in a manner suited to his cir- 
cumstances and determination. 

After a while they reached Nassau Street, and 
the number which was mentioned in the letter. 

“What is Mr. Fairchild’s business?” inquired 
Mr. Falkland. 

“He is a commission merchant.” 

His companion looked rather surprised at this 
statement, as Nassau Street is scarcely the place 
where a commission merchant would be likely to 
establish himself. However, he did not feel called 
upon to express any opinion on the subject to 
Harry. It was, no doubt, all right, and he had 
business of his own to occupy his thoughts. As 
long as he conducted Harry safely to his destina- 
tion he would have done all that he had agreed 
to do. 

They paused at the foot of the staircase, at the 
bottom of which, on either side, was a sort of direc- 
tory of names occupying the apartments above. 
Opposite No. 7 was the name, Lemuel Fairchild. 

Harry pointed it out to his companion. 


II2 


SINK OR SWIM 

“That is the right name, is it?” asked Mr. Falk- 
land. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well, I suppose you won’t have any trouble in 
finding it. You don’t need me to go up with you, 
do you?” 

“Oh, no, sir,” said our hero, promptly. “I’m 
all right now.” 

“Good by, then.” 

“Good by. I thank you for your care of me.” 

Harry shook hands with Mr. Falkland, and 
ascended the stairs. The staircase was rather nar- 
row, and not particularly clean. It did not look 
quite so magnificent as Harry had anticipated, 
whose ideas of places of business in the city were 
rather brighter than the reality. But, then, he 
reflected that people at any rate got rich in the city, 
and that was the main point. 

When he arrived at the head of the stairs he saw 
four doors, the highest number, of course, going up 
to 4. It would be necessary to climb another flight. 
This he did, and found himself very soon standing 
before No. 7. He was not quite sure whether he 
ought to knock, or go directly in. On the whole, 
he thought it best to knock. 

“Come in,” said a voice from within. 

Harry opened the door, and found himself in 
the presence of his employer. 


SINK OR SWIM 




CHAPTER XVI 

HOW THEY DO BUSINESS IN THE CITY 

The room into which Harry entered was possi- 
bly twenty feet square, and had rather a desolate 
look. It was poorly lighted, having but one win- 
dow, looking upon a court-yard. At one end was 
an elevated desk, with a large ledger lying upon it. 
There were two armchairs in the office, on one of 
which a man of forty-five sat smoking a cigar. He 
was rather a hard-featured man, with stiff, wiry, 
black hair, and rather a seedy look. 

“Is Mr. Fairchild in?” asked our hero, dubi^ 
ously. 

“I am Mr. Fairchild,” was the unexpected reply. 
“Are you young Raymond?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Harry, feeling considerably 
disappointed with the appearance of his employer, 
as well as the office in which he was to work. 

The fact was, he had formed a very different 
idea of both from the present reality. He supposed 
Mr. Fairchild would be a portly man, handsomely 
dressed, and his place of business a large warehouse 


!II4 SINK OR SWIM 

several times as large as Mr. Porter’s store, which 
he had just left. But here was a miserable little 
twenty-foot room, at which, he felt very confident, 
John Gaylord would turn up his nose. He fer- 
vently hoped that none of his country friends would 
come and see him. After all the glowing anticipa- 
tions he had formed, this was certainly something 
of a come-down. Then, he was disappointed in 
Mr. Fairchild himself. He certainly did not look 
by any means like a prosperous city merchant, do- 
ing an extensive business. 

“Have you just reached New York, Raymond?” 
asked the merchant, picking his teeth with the small 
blade of his pocketknife. 

“Yes, sir,” said Harry. “I came right here.” 

“All right. I was expecting you. So you want 
me to make a business man of you, eh?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Harry, wondering if he should 
dress as shabbily when he became a commission 
merchant. 

“Well, ni do my best for you.” 

“How is business, sir?” asked Harry, a little 
anxiously under the circumstances. 

“Pretty good,” answered Mr. Fairchild. 

Harry involuntarily looked round the empty 
room with a puzzled air. He wondered what Mr. 
Fairchild had to sell, and where he kept it. He 
could not help wondering, also, where his salary of 
twelve dollars a week was to come from. 


SINK OR SWIM 1 15 

“Yesterday I sold a cargo of sugar,” resumed 
Mr. Fairchild — “ten thousand dollars’ worth. I 
must have you make out the bill presently.” 

Harry looked and felt astonished. He began 
to suspect that, in spite of appearances, consid- 
erable business might be done, even in this little 
room. Probably Mr. Porter’s sales for an entire 
year would not amount to more than twenty thou- 
sand dollars, yet here was a sale of half that 
amount in a single day. 

“Do you often make such large sales?” he asked, 
with a new feeling of respect. 

“Do you call that a large sale?” said the mer- 
chant, indifferently. 

“I should think it was, sir.” 

“Ah, yes; your being from the country explains 
that. I sell large quantities of merchandise on com- 
mission. I never take any consignment worth less 
than a thousand dollars. It wouldn’t pay.” 

“Indeed I” said our hero, becoming more cheer- 
ful. The office was small and dull. Still, the 
amount of business done there redeemed its insig- 
nificance. 

“Day before yesterday I sold a cargo of cotton 
amounting to — let me see ” 

Mr. Fairchild went to the desk, and, opening 
It, took out a small blank book. 

“Twenty-seven thousand, five hundred and thir- 
ty-three dollars, and seventy-five cents,” he read 


ii6 SINK OR SWIM 

from the book. “What would my commission on 
this sale be, at two per cent.? I want to see 
whether you are quick and correct at figures.’^ 

“About five hundred and fifty dollars,” an- 
swered our hero, making a rapid calculation in his 
head. “If I had a pencil and some paper I would 
give you the exact figures.” 

“Quite right. I see you understand the prin- 
ciple. That’s doing very fairly for one day, 
isn’t It?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Harry, considerably impressed. 

At this moment a man entered, and, with a 
hasty glance at Harry, addressed Mr. Fairchild. 

“Ah, Miller, how are you?” said the merchant. 

“Very well, but in a great hurry. Have you 
sold that cargo of silks yet?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Have you , thought over my offer of this 
morning?” 

“Seventeen thousand dollars? Yes, I have 
thought of it, and I can’t accept it. My price is 
eighteen thousand.” 

“Too much; but I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll 
split the difference and say five hundred.” 

This offer, after a little chaffering, was finally 
agreed to. 

“Raymond,” said Mr. Fairchild, “make out a 
bill against Mr. Miller, Thomas Miller, of sev- 
enteen thousand five hundred dollars for the cargo 


SINK OR SWIM 1 17 

of silks, at present on the ship Argo. You will 
find pen and paper on the desk.” 

Harry stepped to the desk, and with some tribu- 
lation made out the bill, as he would have done 
for a supply of groceries. He feared that It would 
not answer; but on handing It to Mr. Fairchild that 
gentleman made no criticism. He just glanced at 
It and handed It to Mr. Miller. 

“Very well; I’ll send round a check for the 
amount In the morning.” 

“All right.” 

“Good morning. I am In a hurry” ; and the silk 
purchaser went out. 

“What do you think of that specimen of doing 
business, Raymond?” asked Mr. Fairchild, com- 
placently. 

“It didn’t take long.” 

“No, that’s city style. And It pays, too. Just 
calculate the commission on that sale at two per 
cent.” 

“Three hundred and fifty dollars,” said our 
hero, promptly. 

“I dare say you are not used to such transactions 
in the country.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Well, It’s a very comfortable way of doing 
business. Probably I may have no other sale to- 
day — possibly not to-morrow; but two or three 
large sales a week count up.” 


ii8 SINK OR SWIM 

Harry began to think he should not have to work 
very hard, and his doubt as to Mr. Fairchild’s mak- 
ing money enough to pay him his wages disap^ 
peared. 

“Do you want me to go to work at once?” he 
asked. 

“Yes, I have some copying for you to do. Open 
that ledger.” 

Harry did so. 

“You may commence at page 51, and copy down 
the entries upon these sheets of paper. You are 
used to copying, aren’t you?” 

“No, sir, but I can do it well enough.” 

“Very well. You may go to work at once. 
I must make a business call. I will be back in an 
hour or two and take you to dinner.” 

He took his hat and went out. Harry began 
to copy industriously. The transactions entered 
appeared to date several years back, and Harry 
did not exactly understand what connection they 
had with Mr. Lemuel Fairchild’s business. But 
then, as he reflected, he was not competent to judge 
of that. All he had to do was to obey instruc- 
tions, and after a while he would know more. It 
was certainly very astonishing the way in which 
business was done in the city. The prospect of 
being cooped up in a small, dark room was not 
very pleasant. Still Harry recalled the pleasant 
circumstance that he was earning two dollars a day, 


SINK OR SWIM 1 19 

and was at the same time learning business. So 
far as he could see, the commission business was 
not very difficult to learn. Perhaps Mr. Fairchild 
might eventually admit him as a partner in the 
firm. If so, he would soon realize a fortune. 

blarry kept on copying steadily while these 
thoughts were passing through his mind. After 
an hour or more the door opened, and Mr. Fair- 
child entered. 

“How much have you copied?” he asked, ad- 
vancing to the desk. 

“About two pages and a half,” said Harry. “Is 
it done right?” 

His employer glanced at the writing carelessly. 

“Yes,” he said, “it will do very well. You have 
a good business hand.” 

“I shall improve as I go on, I hope,” said Harry, 
modestly. 

“Oh, of course. I have no doubt I shall be able 
to make a business man of you. But I suppose 
you are getting hungry.” 

Harry admitted that he was a little hungry. 

“Well, we will go out as soon as a friend ar- 
rives whom I have invited to accompany us.” 

Fifteen minutes later the friend referred to ar- 
rived. It was Hartley Brandon — the same man 
who had visited Squire Turner in Vernon the week 
before. 

He glanced sharply at our hero, and said some- 


120 SINK OR SWIM 

thing In a low tone to Mr. Fairchild which Harry 
did not understand. He little dreamed that the 
newcomer was to be intimately connected with his 
fortunes. Still less did he dream that he was an 
agent of Squire Turner, and that all the profitable 
business transactions of Mr. Lemuel Fairchild were 
merely fictitious, and got up solely to deceive him. 
Harry was a smart boy, but even smart boys are 
likely to be taken In, In matters of which they 
have no previous experience. But Harry’s eyes 
were to be opened very soon. 


SINK OR SWIM 


I2I 


CHAPTER XVI 

Harry's first business transaction 

Lemuel Fairchild conducted Brandon and 
Harry to Lovejoy’s Hotel on Broadway, and led 
the way to the restaurant connected with the hotel. 

“IVe done a good stroke of business this morn- 
ing,’* he said. “I can afford to stand treat. Sit 
down, Mr. Brandon. Sit down, Raymond. Now, 
what will you have?” 

“Roast beef,” answered Brandon. “I prefer the 
sirloin.” 

“Very good. What for you, Raymond?” 

“The same,” said Harry. 

“Three plates of sirloin,” ordered Mr. Fair- 
child. “By the way. Captain Brandon, I have been 
giving our young friend here a little inkling into 
the way we do business in the city.” 

“Well, my lad,” said Brandon, “how do you 
like it?” 

“I think I shall like it when I get used to it, 
sir,” said Harry. 

“I made a sale amounting to nearly eighteen 
thousand dollars this morning,” remarked the com- 
mission merchant. 


122 SINK OR SWIM 

“You’re not used to doing business on so large 
a scale in the country, I take it,” said Brandon. 

“No, sir.” 

“The city’s the place for a smart lad like you. 
You’ll make your way here.” 

“I hope so.” 

“No doubt of it, if you attend to business, and 
do whatever you are told.” 

“I mean to do my duty.” 

“That’s the talk,” said Fairchild, who for a 
wealthy merchant used a variety of phrases hardly 
to be expected. “By the time you’re thirty you’ll 
be a rich man. I didn’t start with one-quarter of 
your advantages. When I was your age I worked 
for three dollars a week, and had to pay my board 
out of it. See where I am now.” 

Mr. Fairchild, as I have stated, was dressed 
rather shabbily, and, so far as appearance went, 
did not seem to have got far beyond the point 
where he started. 

If Harry had not witnessed the extensive scale 
on which he transacted business, he might not have 
been very much impressed by his remarks ; but, not 
suspecting any deception, supposed that everything 
was as stated, and felt very much encouraged by 
his remarks. 

“You’ll be taking your young friend as partner 
some of these days, Mr. Fairchild,” said Brandon. 

“I make no promises,” answered Fairchild; 


SINK OR SWIM 123 

‘‘but my the time he gets grown up I shall feel 
the need of sharing my responsibilities with some 
one. If he suits me, it may be as you say.” 

“Why not? I suppose you are growing rich 
fast, Fairchild?” 

“That isn’t for me to say. I don’t tell all about 
my affairs, as some do; but I could afford to give 
away a hundred thousand dollars and have enough 
left to live handsomely.” 

“I congratulate you on your success, and hope 
our young friend here will succeed as well. By 
the way, I wish you would order me some coffee.” 

“Certainly. Call for anything you like. J^ay- 
mond, will you have some coffee?” 

“Thank you, sir, I should like some.” 

“We poor sailors,” said Brandon, stirring his 
coffee, “don’t get rich so fast as you merchants. 
We brave the elements, and you reap the profits. 
That’s about the way of it, I take it.” 

“By the way, when do you sail. Captain 
Brandon?” 

“It is not quite decided. In a day or two. Were 
you ever on board a ship, my lad?” 

“No, sir.” 

“You’d like to see one, I suppose?” 

“Yes,” said our young hero eagerly; “I should 
enjoy it very much.” 

“Don’t you think you could spare him a little 


124 SINK OR SWIM 

while to-morrow morning, Fairchild? Business 

isn’t very driving, is it?’ ’ 

“Yes, I could spare him, I think, if he would 
like to go.” 

“All right, then. I shall be passing your office 
in the morning, and will take him along and show 
him the Sea Eagle.” 

“You are very kind, sir,” said Harry, grate- 
fully. 

He was rather surprised at the amount of atten- 
tion he received from his employer and the cap- 
tain. Indeed, he had reason to be, for I may re- 
mark for the benefit of my country readers, whose 
expectations might otherwise be unduly raised, that 
city merchants rarely offer a prospective partner- 
ship to a boy on the first day of his entering their 
employment. Had Harry possessed more experi- 
ence, he might have been led to suspect that there 
was somthing queer about it ; but he reflected that 
in the city things were different from what he had 
been accustomed to in the country. Even Mr. Por- 
ter, who only kept a common village store, had not 
said anything about taking him into partnership at 
any period, however remote; but here was a 
wealthy city merchant who held out the tempting 
inducement. No wonder our hero indulged in some 
gorgeous castle-building, and began to dream of 
what he would do when he was junior partner in 
the firm of Fairchild & Raymond. 


SINK OR SWIM 125 

At length the dinner was over, and the three 
walked back in icompany to the office in Nassau 
Street. 

“What shall I do, Mr. Fairchild?*’ asked 
Harry. 

“You may keep on with your copying,” said 
his employer carelessly. “I have some business 
with Captain Brandon, and shall be away with him 
most of the afternoon. You can attend to the 
office.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“If any parties should call on business with me, 
you may tell them to call to-morrow morning.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“If a gentleman should call, and inquire my 
price for a consignment of spices, you may say that 
the lowest figure is ten thousand dollars.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“If he should be willing to pay that, you have 
my authority to close the bargain.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Here Mr. Fairchild went out, and Harry was 
left to himself. When he reflected that he was 
authorized to close a bargain of so extensive a 
character, involving property to the amount of 
ten thousand dollars, he felt considerably raised 
in his own estimation. 

“I might have plodded on in Vernon for fifty 


126 SINK OR SWIM 

years before having such a responsibility thrown 
upon me,” he said to himself. 

He continued his copying for an hour, when 
the door opened and a man entered briskly. 

“Is Mr. Fairchild in?” he asked. 

’*‘No, sir.” 

“When will he be in?” 

“He may return late in the afternoon. He left 
word, if any one called, to ask them to come back 
to-morrow morning.” 

“That won’t do for me. I must leave the city 
this evening. I am sorry not to find him in,” said 
the stranger, in a tone of vexation. 

“Perhaps you will leave word about your busi- 
ness, and he can write to you.” 

“It was about some spices that I wished to pur- 
chase, if we could come to terms.” 

“Oh,” said Harry, with animation. “He left 
word with me about that. I can tell you what- 
ever you wish to know.” 

“Do you know his price — his lowest price?” 

“Yes, sir; it is ten thousand dollars. He won’t 
take a cent less.” 

“You are sure of that?” 

“Yes, sir; he told me so expressly.” 

“If he were here I would close the bargain.” 

“You can do so now. I have authority to sell,” 
said our hero, in a tone of pardonable importance. 

“Indeed! You are quite a man of business of 


SINK OR SWIM 127 

your age. However, if you have authority for 
selling, you may make out a bill, and 1 will send 
round my check.” 

“Very well, sir.” 

Harry did as requested, and the stranger, ex- 
pressing himself satisfied, departed. 

Previous to Mr. Fairchild’s departure, he gave 
Harry permission to write home if he desired it. 
Our hero decided to avail himself of this permis- 
sion, being anxious to apprise his mother of his 
position, and the circumstances in which he found 
himself. Writing immediately after the important 
business transaction above mentioned, he may be 
pardoned if his letter is somewhat sanguine and 
confident in its tone. 

This is what he wrote: 

“Dear Mother: It is so short a time since 
I left home that you may suppose I will have noth- 
ing to write ; but I find things very different in the 
city from what they were in Vernon. You will 
be surprised when I tell you that I have just sold a 
lot of spices for ten thousand dollars. Mr. Fair- 
child was out, and told me what price to ask. We 
don’t keep the goods we sell here. I don’t know 
where they are kept yet; but I shall learn more 
about the business when I have been here longer. 
The commission which Mr. Fairchild gets on the 
sale I made amounts to two hundred dollars; so 


128 SINK OR SWIM 

I think I have earned my wages so far, don’t 
you? 

“I think I shall like Mr. Fairchild. He seems 
disposed to be kind to me, and has said something 
about taking me into partnership some time, if I 
suit him. I shall try hard to do so, as that would 
bring me a very large income, and I could do a 
great deal for you, dear mother, and little Katy. 
If you should see our place of business, you would 
be surprised that so large a business could be done 
here. It is only a small room, and not very pleas- 
ant. I felt disappointed at first, but I begin to 
understand better now how they manage in the 
city. I was disappointed in Mr. Fairchild, also. 
He does not seem to care much about dress, con- 
sidering how rich he is, and what a splendid busi- 
ness he does. He has introduced me to a sea cap- 
tain of his acquaintance, who has invited me to 
go on board of his vessel to-morrow. I shall like 
it, as I never was on a ship. Most of my time 
is spent in copying from a ledger. I don’t know 
yet where I am to board; Mr. Fairchild has not 
told me, but I will try to write you again to-morrow 
and let you know all about it. I wish you were 
living here in the city, so that I could board with 
you. That will, come some time, I hope. I close 
with much love to you and Katy. 

“Your affectionate son, 

“Harry Raymond.’' 


SINK OR SWIM 129 

This letter gave great comfort to Mrs. Ray- 
mond. She felt that, though Harry was separated 
from her at present, he had embarked upon a pros- 
perous business career, and that better times were 
in store for both. Poor woman! it was the last 
letter she received from Harry for many a long, 
tedious day. 


SINK OR SWIM 


130 


CHAPTER XVII 

THE FIRST NIGHT IN THE CITY 

Probably the reader has noticed, with some 
surprise, that Mr. Fairchild addressed his sailor 
confederate as Captain Brandon, and may have 
thought the name wrongly applied. But by a lucky 
accident, as he termed It, he had been unexpectedly 
elevated to the chief command of the vessel on 
which he was about to sail. Captain Hatch, who 
had been expected to fill his place, was a good 
sailor, but addicted to Intemperate habits. In a fit 
of Intoxication only two days previous, he had got 
into a fracas, and been so severely Injured that It 
was found necessary to send him to the hospital, 
where he was likely to be detained some time. 
Meantime the Sea Eagle was all ready to sail, and 
the owners, without knowing much of Hartley 
Brandon, who had been engaged as first mate, of- 
fered him the captain’s place, which It Is needless 
to say he accepted with alacrity. It was a posi- 
tion which for years he had striven to obtain, but 
until now unsuccessfully. So far as seamanship 


SINK OR SWIM 13 1 

was concerned, he was as well fitted for the place 
as many who had filled it for years; but he was 
reckless and unreliable, and disposed at times to 
be despotic, so he had never been popular with 
the crews which he had commanded as officer. 
However, there was little to choose, and to this 
fact he was indebted for his present post. 

Lemuel Fairchild was a seedy adventurer, whom 
he had engaged for a small consideration to play 
the part of a commission merchant, in order to 
draw Harry to the city, where there would be an 
opportunity to carry out his, or rather Squire Turn- 
er's, intentions, with regard to him. Of course 
all the large business transactions were bogus, the 
parties pretending to purchase cargoes being inti- 
mates of Fairchild. The office in Nassau Street 
had been hired for a week only, as that would be 
sufficient for Brandon’s purpose. The ledger, out 
of which our hero was employed to copy, had form- 
erly belonged to a business house now bankrupt, 
and had been bought cheap of a paper firm in Ann 
Street, whither it had found its way among the 
waste w^hich is diligently gathered by the squalid 
army of rag pickers that usually prowd about the 
streets and explore the lanes and alleys of the great 
metropolis. 

The reader is now in possession of all the net- 
work of deception by which Brandon’s ingenuity 
had contrived to dupe our young hero. It is no 


132 SINK OR SWIM 

wonder that, smart as he was, he failed to dis- 
cover this. Whatever seemed strange to him he 
naturally attributed to his want of knowledge of 
city ways. 

When night came, and the office closed, Mr. 
Fairchild took Harry to Lovejoy’s once more to 
take supper. 

“I must get a boarding-place for you to-mor- 
row,” he said. “To-night I will secure a room 
for you here.” 

“Where do you live, Mr. Fairchild?” asked 
Harry, with natural curiosity. 

“Why, the fact is, I am boarding at the hotel 
myself just at present. I have a fine house uptown, 
but it is being painted and refurnished, and, until 
that is finished, I board at a hotel.” 

“Are you married?” continued Harry, who was 
something of a Yankee, as he showed by his 
questions. 

“My wife and children are traveling in Europe,” 
said Mr. Fairchild, telling, of course, an unblush- 
ing falsehood. “I would join them if I could get 
away from by business. I must wait till I have 
a partner to leave in charge.” And he looked at 
Harry in a significant way, which caused our young 
hero’s heart to beat with proud anticipations. 

They made a very good supper, and then sat 
down for a while in the public room, Fairchild 
smoking a couple of cigars with evident enjoyment. 


SINK OR SWIM 133 

He offered one to Harry, which the latter de- 
clined, having fortunately never acquired a habit 
that to boys, at least, can never be productive of 
good. 

About eight o’clock Harry asked permission to 
go to bed. His long ride in the morning, with 
the new experiences of his first day in the city, 
had produced a feeling of fatigue. 

“Oh, yes, you can go to bed if you like,” said 
Fairchild. “I’ll speak to the clerk to give us a 
room with two beds.” 

“How early do you want me to get up in the 
morning, Mr. Fairchild?” 

“How early do you get up in the country?” 

“About half-past live.” 

“We don’t rise so early in the city. We’ll break- 
fast at eight and get to the office at nine. Any time 
before eight will do.” 

Harry thought that nine was rather late to com- 
mence business; but this, as he supposed, was only 
another difference between the city and the country. 

Harry soon fell asleep in spite of the rattling 
of wheels and the never-ceasing noise in the busy 
street beneath. He was too tired even to dream, 
but slept soundly until the next morning. 

When he awoke it was broad daylight. He 
looked across the room, and saw Fairchild still 
sleeping. He jumped out of bed, and dressed has- 
tily. Remembering that it was his first morning 


134 SINK OR SWIM 

In the city, he was eager to go downstairs and look 

about him. 

Fairchild opened his eyes sleepily, as he com- 
pleted dressing. 

“Up already, Raymond?” he asked, in a drowsy 
tone. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“What time is it?” 

“I just heard it strike seven.” 

“Well, go down if you like. I will be down 
by eight o’clock.” 

Harry availed himself of the permission, and 
descended four flights of stairs, for they were on 
the fifth story, to the office. 

As he emerged into the street a ragged urchin 
came up and accosted him with the familiar ques- 
tion, “Shine yer boots?” 

“Go ahead,” said Harry, perceiving that his 
boots were stained with mud. 

The task was performed in a creditable style, 
and our hero was called upon to disburse ten cents. 
He resolved, as soon as he got settled in a board- 
ing-house, to buy a brush and some blacking for 
himself, feeling that he was not yet in circum- 
stances to pay ten cents daily for having his boots 
blacked. 

He stood at the door of the hotel, and watched 
the throng of wayfarers, which, commencing tw^o 
hours before, would flow without interruption 


SINK OR SWIM 135 

through the busy street until the small hours. It 
was to our hero, born and bred in the quiet coun- 
try, an animated and interesting spectacle, and he 
felt glad, in spite of a certain feeling of loneliness, 
that he was employed in the city. 

At eight o’clock his employer came down, and 
they went together into the saloon, where they took 
a substantial breakfast, the expense being defrayed 
by Captain Brandon, acting for Squire Turner. 

Shortly afterwards they went round to the office 
in Nassau Street. 

Lemuel Fairchild seated himself in his position 
of the day before, with his heels on the mantel- 
piece, and diligently perused the columns of the 
New York Herald, a copy of which he had bought 
in the street below. 

“What shall I do, Mr. Fairchild?” asked Harry. 

“Go on with your copying,” said Fairchild, not 
lifting his eyes from the paper. 

So our hero opened the ledger and went to work. 
His task was not a very interesting one. Still he 
was earning two dollars a day, and this money 
would enable him to provide for his mother; so 
he buckled to it in earnest, determined to show his 
employer that he was not afraid of work. He had 
commenced working for the partnership of which 
a prospect had been given him. 

About ten o’clock the door opened, and Brandon 
entered. 


136 SINK OR SWIM 

‘‘Good morning, Captain Brandon,” said Fair- 
child, rising. 

“Good morning, Fairchild. Good morning, my 
lad.” 

“Good morning, sir,” answered Harry. 

“Well, my lad, are you ready to make a little 
visit to my ship?” 

“Yes, sir, if Mr. Fairchild is willing.” 

“Oh, he’ll be willing; I’ll guarantee that. Your 
writing can wait till another time. Eh, Fair- 
child?” 

“Yes, he can go,” assented the merchant. 

Harry picked up his hat and accompanied Bran- 
don to the street. 

“It’s all right,” said Brandon, in a whisper, 
placing a small roll of bills in the hand of Fair- 
child. “It’ll be a long time before you set eyes on 
your office boy again.” 


SINK OR SWIM 


137 


CHAPTER XVIII 

GOING ON BOARD 

Harry crossed Broadway with his companion, 
and went down a side street to the North River 
pier, at which lay the Sea Eagle, of which Brandon 
had obtained the command. It was a vessel of 
good size, and was now all ready for sea. This 
fact, however. Captain Brandon did not care to 
communicate to his young companion. 

“How soon do you sail. Captain Brandon?” 
asked Harry. 

“In a day or two,” said Brandon. 

“Is your voyage a long one?” 

“We are bound for China.” 

“That is a long trip.” 

“Yes, a very long one.” 

“Don’t you get tired of the sea?” 

“Oh, we sailors get used to it.” 

“I don’t think I should like it.” 

“So you wouldn’t like to be a sailor?” said Bran- 
don, looking at the lad with a meaning which the 
latter did not understand. 


138 SINK OR SWIM 

“No, 1 don’t think I should.” 

“So I thought at your age; but I became a sailor 
after all.” 

However it might have been in the case of Cap- 
tain Brandon, Harry thought it very improbable 
that such a change would take place in his own 
views. 

At length he reached the pier. Bales of mer- 
chandise lay scattered about, and there was a gen- 
eral appearance of confusion and disorder. 

“There is my vessel,” said Captain Brandon, 
pointing it out. “Don’t you want to go to China 
with me?” 

“Thank you,” said Harry, with a smile, “but 
I will wait till I am older.” 

“And then go as a merchant, I suppose?” 

“Perhaps so.” 

“Well, we will go on board, at all events. I 
will show you about.” 

Harry ascended to the deck, and Captain Bran- 
don followed. The latter began to point out and 
name various parts of the vessel, walking about 
with our hero. The sailors looked with some curi- 
osity at Harry, but of course asked no questions. 
The mate, however, Mr. Hawkes, after speaking 
with Brandon about some matter connected with 
the vessel, asked: 

“Is that the cabin boy?” 

“Certainly,” said Brandon. 


SINK OR SWIM 139 

“He asks if you are the cabin boy,’’ he said, after 
the mate had passed on. “It’s a good joke, 
isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” said Harry, smiling. 

“Now suppose we go into the cabin,” said 
Brandon. 

“Thank you,” assented Harry. 

Accordingly they descended into the ship’s cabin, 
which, though small, was very comfortable. 

“Sit down, Raymond,” said the captain, setting 
the example. 

On the cabin table was spread out a slight re- 
past, consisting of sandwiches and ale. 

“We’ll take a little lunch,” said Brandon. “It’s 
hungry work walking about the streets. You can 
eat a little something, I guess.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Harry, accepting a sand- 
wich. 

“Let me pour you out some ale.” 

“I don’t care for any, thank you.” 

“Pooh, nonsense; ale won’t do you any harm”; 
and Brandon filled his glass. 

Harry had never even tasted of ale, but he did 
not know how to refuse the captain’s hospitality, 
and raised the glass to his lips. The taste was 
not altogether agreeable, so he merely sipped a 
little and set it down again. 

“Don’t you like it?’' 

“Not very much.” 


140 SINK OR SWIM 

“Never mind, it’ll do you good. Nothing more 
wholesome.” 

“How long will your voyage be, Captain 
Brandon?” 

“Eighteen months ; perhaps longer. By the time 
I get back, I suppose you will have become quite 
a man of business.” 

“I hope so,” said Harry. 

“How do you like my friend Fairchild?” 

“He has been quite kind to me. I think I shall 
like him.” 

“Keep on, and some time you may be as rich as 
he,” said the captain, closing the remark with a 
laugh, for which our hero could see no reason. 

“I should like to be rich, for my mother’s sake,” 
said Harry, seriously. 

“For your mother’s sake, of course. Let me 
see — what’s the name of the town you come 
from?” 

“Vernon.’? 

“Ah, yes, I think I’ve heard of it. A small 
place, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, sir, it’s only a village.” 

“Any rich people there?” 

“There’s one — Squire Turner.” 

“Squire Turner?” repeated Brandon. “What 
sort of a man is he?” 

He asked the question carelessly, but fixed his 
eyes on Harry as he spoke. It will be remembered 


SINK OR SWIM 141 

that Squire Turner, unwilling to trust his scape- 
grace cousin too far, had carefully kept hidden 
from him the cause of his hostility to our hero. 
This naturally stimulated the curiosity of Bran- 
don, to whom it occurred that he might, by ques- 
tioning the boy, draw out the truth. 

“He’s quite a prominent man in Vernon,” an- 
swered Harry, cautiously. 

“I suppose he is popular, also?” 

“Not very popular.” 

“Why not?” 

“He is not very liberal.” 

“Then you don’t like him?” 

“I haven’t had much to do with him.” 

“Confound him! why don’t he speak out?” said 
Brandon to himself. It occurred to him, however, 
that further questions respecting a man he was 
not supposed to know might excite the suspicions 
of the boy, and he refrained. 

Meanwhile Harry, who had a healthy boy’s ap- 
petite, had commenced eating his second sandwich, 
but he had not again tasted of the ale. 

“Come,” said Captain Brandon, “suppose we 
drink success to the Sea Eagle, and a quick and 
prosperous voyage.” 

So saying, he placed the glass to his lips. 

“With pleasure,” responded Harry, following 
his example. He merely tasted the ale, however, 
and then set down the glass. 

“That will never do, my lad,” said the captain. 


142 SINK OR SWIM 

“It Is always usual, on such occasions, to drain the 
glass.” 

“I don’t like ale very well.” 

“But you won’t refuse to drink It, under such 
circumstances?” 

Fearing that his refusal might be misconstrued, 
Harry gulped down the liquid, though with some 
difficulty. 

“Come, that’s well,” said the captain, with sat- 
isfaction. “I won’t ask you to drink any more. 
Now suppose I tell you a little of the countries 
I have visited. We sailors see strange things.” 

“I should be glad to have you,” said our hero, 
thinking that the captain took great pains to please 
him. 

Brandon launched out Into a long and circum- 
stantial account of Brazil, and afterwards of Aus- 
tralia, both of which he had visited. Harry lis- 
tened at first with interest, but gradually a strange 
sensation of drowsiness came over him. His eyes 
drooped heavily, and it was with a continual effort 
that he kept them open. The captain lowered his 
voice, and kept talking In a low, monotonous tone 
that helped the effect of the sleeping potion which, 
unobserved, he had mingled with the ale In Harry’s 
glass. 

“I feel sleepy,” said our hero at length, after 
making a desperate effort to keep awake. “It Is 
strange, so early In the day.” 

“I observed you found It hard to keep awake. 


SINK OR SWIM 143 

I suppose It Is the noise and bustle of the city, to 
which you are not accustomed. I’ll tell you what, 
my lad, I’ve got a little business to attend to on 
deck. As I shan’t go back to Nassau Street for 
an hour or two. I’ll give you that time for a nap.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Harry, drowsily. “Won’t 
Mr. Fairchild think it strange, my being away so 
long?” 

“I’ll make it all right with him. He’s very 
good-natured. So just lie down and have your nap 
out.” 

Harry lay down, and in two minutes his senses 
were locked in profound repose. Captain Brandon 
looked at him with satisfaction as he lay stretched 
out before him. 

“It was a lucky thought of mine, the sleeping 
potion,” he said to himself. “He’s polite enough, 
but there’s plenty of will and determination about 
him. I can see that by the cut of his lip. He might 
have made me considerable trouble. Now he’s 
safe to sleep eighteen hours at least, unless the 
druggist deceived me.” 

He went on deck, taking care, however, to lock 
the cabin door behind him. On the deck he met 
Mr. Hawkes, the mate. 

“Well, Mr. Hawkes,” he said, “what Is the 
prospect?” 

“I think we shall get off in an hour, Captain 
Brandon.” 

“Good.” 


144 SINK OR SWIM 

“I didn't quite understand about the lad you 
had with vou. Does he sail with us?’* 

“Yes.” ' 

“As cabin-boy?” 

“Yes, but he doesn’t know it.” 

“Ah, I see,” said Hawkes, nodding intelligently. 

“His friends have thought it best to send him 
to sea, but he is obstinate and headstrong, and 
might make trouble ; so I agreed to manage it.” 

He briefly related the strategy of which he had 
made use. The mate laughed approvingly. 

“We’ll make a sailor of him before we get 
through,” he said. 

“No doubt of it.” 

“Meanwhile our hero, wrapped in a sleep un- 
naturally profound, slumbered on, happily uncon- 
scious of the unjustifiable plot which had been con- 
trived against him. On deck all was bustle and 
hurry. The pilot was already on board. The 
sailors were hurrying about in obedience to the 
quick commands of the officers, the creaking of 
cordage was heard, and in a short time the Sea 
Eagle had commenced her voyage. But Harry 
heard nothing. His slumber was profound. His 
career as an office boy was at an end, and after 
one brief day in the city he was drifting away un- 
consciously from home and friends, in the power 
of a reckless man, from whose despotism there was 
no appeal. 

I am quite sure that my young readers will all 


SINK OR SWIM 145 

sympathize with Harry. His misfortune was in 
no sense occasioned by his misconduct. He had 
left home with a firm determination to do his duty, 
and work his way upward to a position where he 
could be of service to his mother and sister; but 
all his plans seemed disastrously interrupted. 

But I do not despair of Harry yet. Hitherto 
his course had been smooth, and he has had no 
opportunity of showing what he is. Difficulties 
develop strength of character, and it is pretty clear 
that Harry has got into difficulties, and those of 
a serious kind. 

Will he sink or swim? 


146 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER XIX 

HARRY REALIZES HIS POSITION 

For eighteen hours that long, unnatural sleep 
held our hero in its benumbing grasp. For eigh- 
teen hours he lay utterly unconscious of what was 
passing around. But at the end of that time sleep 
loosened its hold upon him. He opened his eyes 
and looked bewildered. He was almost instantly 
made aware that the vessel was in motion. On 
standing up he found himself staggering from one 
side of the cabin to the other, for a brisk wind had 
sprung up, causing considerable motion to the ship. 

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Harry, in dismay, 
“the vessel has started. What will Mr. Fairchild 
say? He will think I have run away.” 

He blamed himself very much for having fallen 
asleep, but, not yet suspecting bad faith on the 
captain’s part, could not understand why he had 
not been waked up in time to go on shore. 

He hurried to the cabin door and tried to open 
it, but in vain. It was securely locked. 


SINK OR SWIM 147 

“What can It mean?” thought our hero, in utter 
bewilderment. 

He shook the door and called out at the top of 
his voice: 

“Captain Brandon, let me out.” 

There was no answer. 

Harry continued calling for five minutes, shak- 
ing the door meanwhile. At last. Indignant, and 
for the first time suspecting that something was 
wrong, he began to kick against the panels vio- 
lently, calling out : 

“Captain Brandon!” 

This time he received attention. Steps were 
heard outside, a key was put In the lock, and the 
captain made his appearance. 

“What are you kicking up such a row about?” 
he demanded harshly. 

“Has the vessel sailed?” asked Harry, anxiously, 

“Yes, It has.” 

“But I am not to go. Can’t you send me on 
shore?” 

The captain answered his appeal with a horse- 
laugh. 

“Look here, youngster; how far do you think 
we are from New York?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Then I’ll tell you. We have sailed, so far, 
about a hundred and fifty miles.” 

“A hundred and fifty miles!” ejaculated our 


148 SINK OR SWIM 

hero, his breath almost taken away at the magni- 
tude of this disaster. 

“Yes, a little more than that possibly. Perhaps 
you’d like to have me send you back in a small 
boat?” 

“How long have I been asleep?” asked Harry, 
finding the captain’s statement almost incredible. 

“You went to sleep yesterday about noon, and 
now it’s the next morning.” 

“Is this true?” 

“How dare you question the truth of anything 
I say, you impudent young rascal?” said the cap- 
tain, fiercely. 

Harry had not got over his bewilderment. He 
understood how he was situated, and that his mis- 
fortune was due to the captain’s neglect to wake 
him up. 

“Captain Brandon,” he said, calmly, “you prom- 
ised to wake me up, and send me on shore. Why 
didn’t you do it?” 

“Do you think I am going to be catechised by 
such a young lubber as you?” demanded Captain 
Brandon, with an oath. 

“You have served me a mean trick,” said Harry, 
indignantly, facing the captain with his youthful 
form drawn up and his face flushed with anger. 

“Young man, do you know where you are?” 
said the captain, sternly. 


SINK OR SWIM 149 

“I am where I ought not to be. In the cabin 
of the Sea Eagle.” 

“And do you know who I am?” 

“You are the captain.” 

“You are right there. I command this vessel, 
and all on board, and I won’t tolerate any mutiny,” 
qualifying the last word with an oath. 

“You have no authority over me, Captain Bran- 
don,” said Harry, proudly. “You have entrapped 
me on board this vessel. I am not here of my own 
free will, and you have no more authority over me 
than you have over the president of the United 
States ” 

“You think I haven’t, eh?” 

“I know you have not,” said our hero firmly. 

“As long as I am obliged to remain on board 
I am a passenger, and claim to be treated as such.” 

“Then suppose you pay your fare,” said Captain 
Brandon, with a malicious smile. 

“I can’t do it, and I don’t feel bound to, for I 
didn’t want to come.” 

“You are mighty independent,” sneered the cap- 
tain; “and I have no doubt it will suit you excel- 
lently to get your board and passage for nothing. 
But I have something to say to that.” 

“What will Mr. Fairchild say when I don’t come 
back,” said Harry, in a troubled voice, rather to 
himself than with the expectation of an answer. 

Captain Brandon laughed. 


150 SINK OR SWIM 

“He’ll think you have run away.” 

“Yes, I suppose he will,” said Harry, disturbed. 

“Of course he will.” 

“And what will my mother think?” resumed 
Harry, sorrowfully. 

“Oh, she’ll think you have been led away, and 
got into some scrape or other,” said the captain, 
lightly. “However, she’ll see you again in eigh- 
teen months — that is, if we have a fair voyage.” 

“Eighteen months!” repeated our hero, in 
dismay. 

“Yes, It’s a long ways to China. You’ll be quite 
a sailor by the end of that time.” 

“I don’t Intend to be a sailor,” said Harry. 

“Don’t say that again, you Impudent young 
scoundrel. Do you think I will let my cabin boy 
address me In that style?” 

“I am not your cabin-boy,” said Harry, Indig- 
nantly. 

“That’s your mistake. You’ve got to work your 
passage. I shan’t allow any skulkers aboard this 
ship.” 

This speech, as well as most of the captain’s, 
was garnished with oaths, which I choose to omit, 
though at the risk of conveying an Inadequate Idea 
of his brutality and coarseness. Our hero was 
greatly exasperated at the mean plot which had 
been concocted against him, and, being of a fear- 
less temperament, would have given full and free 


SINK OR SWIM 15 1 

expression to his indignation, and a scene of vlo- 
ience would no doubt have resulted but for the op- 
portune entrance of Mr. Weldon, the supercargo. 

Mr. Weldon was a young man, not over twenty- 
five, a nephew of the owner of the vessel, and 
had been sent out as supercargo, with the inten- 
tion of remaining in China for two or three years 
In a branch establishment of his uncle’s house. On 
account of his connection with the firm by whom 
he was employed. Captain Brandon found it pru- 
dent to treat him with more respect than In ordi- 
nary circumstances he would have paid to the super- 
cargo. 

“Good morning. Captain Brandon,” said the 
young man. 

“Good morning, Mr. Weldon,” said Brandon, 
smoothing his face and lowering his arm, which 
had been raised to strike Harry. “How do you 
feel this morning?” 

“Not seasick as yet, but I don’t know how soon 
It may be on. I am In no hurry for it, I can assure 
you. But who Is this young gentleman?” 

“You are joking, Mr. Weldon,” said the cap- 
tain. “We don’t usually address cabin boys as 
young gentlemen on board ship.” 

“Is he your cabin boy?” asked Weldon, In sur- 
prise, for Harry was not, It will be remembered, 
dressed In sailor rig. 

“No, I am not!” said Harry, boldly. 


152 SINK OR SWIM 

“Shut up!” said the captain sharply, with a 
threatening look. “He’s a headstrong young ras- 
cal, whom his friends have placed in my charge, 
with intentions to make a sailor of him.” 

“That is not true. I was trapped on board 
this vessel,” said our hero. 

“I used a little stratagem, knowing that I would 
have trouble otherwise,” said the captain, who 
would not have deigned any explanation to any 
other than the nephew of his employer, in whose 
estimation he wished to stand well. “But now he’s 
on board, I shall carry out the wishes of his'friends, 
and he will find it for his interest not to make any 
trouble,” he added, with a significant look directed 
towards our hero. 

At this moment the captain was summoned to 
the deck, and Harry found himself alone with the 
supercargo. 

“Mr. Weldon,” said our hero, suddenly making 
up his mind to secure the young man as a friend, 
if possible, “do you go with us to China?” 

“Yes, my boy.” 

“Will you be my friend?” 

Such an appeal, coming from a frank, manly 
boy, was not easily to be resisted. 

Mr. Weldon took the hand so frankly offered, 
and said: 

“I will be your friend. I believe you are a good 
boy.” 


SINK OR SWIM 153 

“Don’t believe what Captain Brandon has told 
you. It is absolutely false. I never saw or heard 
of him till two days since, and he does not know 
any of my friends. He induced me to come on 
board this ship on false pretences, and I think must 
have given me something to make me sleep, for 
I became sleepy at once, and have slept, as he tells 
me, ever since yesterday noon.” 

“This is a strange story. What can be his 
object.” 

“I don’t know that; but he has got me into his 
power, and I need a friend.” 

“What is your name?” 

“Harry Raymond.” 

“Then, Harry,” said the young man, warmly 
pressing his hand, “I will be that friend. If what 
you say is true, you have been badly treated. I 
think I have some influence over Captain Bran- 
don, for he is in the employ of my uncle’s firm. 
That influence will be exerted in your favor.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Weldon,” said Harry, grate- 
fully. 

“I wish you would tell me a little more about 
yourself that I may understand your position fully. 
If the captain comes down, you can suspend your 
story until another time.” 

“First, I want to ask your advice on one point,” 
said Harry. 

“What is that?” 


154 SINK OR SWIM 

“The captain claims that I must work my pass- 
age as cabin boy. What shall I do?’’ 

“Have you any great objection to the duties of 
a cabin boy?” 

“I would not have come on board the vessel of 
my own free will. I don’t like to be forced into 
going in such a position.” 

“That is a natural feeling; but I am not sure 
whether it will not be best to yield in the present 
instance. A captain on board of his own vessel 
is a monarch, and has almost supreme power. This 
is very often abused, but I suppose it is necessary 
that he should possess it. I don’t know what sort 
of a man this Captain Brandon is, but you had 
better not needlessly provoke him. Besides, I sup- 
pose you wish to be earning something, and, as 
cabin boy, you will be entitled to wages.” 

“Suppose the captain should ill treat me?” 

“I will stand your friend,” said the supercargo, 
earnestly. 

“Then,” said Harry, after a moment’s thought, 
“I will not oppose the captain’s wishes. I will do 
my duty, but I won’t submit to be imposed upon.” 

The entrance of the captain at this point pre- 
vented our hero from communicating the details 
of his story to his new friend. 


SINK OR SWIM 


155 


CHAPTER XX 

HARRY GETS INTO TROUBLE 

Captain Brandon entered the cabin, carrying 
under his arm a cabin boy’s suit. 

‘‘It’s time you entered upon your duties,” he 
said. “Put on these clothes.” 

He expected a renewal of Harry’s remon- 
strances; but our hero had made up his mind what 
to do. It was no use crying over spilt milk. Since 
he was on board the Sea Eagle, however much 
against his will, he would make the best of a dis- 
agreeable position. He had confidence in the judg- 
ment and friendship of the supercargo, whom he 
liked, notwithstanding their brief acquaintance, 
and he resolved to accept the situation and do his 
best in it. When, therefore, the captain held out 
the cabin boy’s suit, Harry took it quietly, asking : 

“Where shall I put it on?” 

“You can put it on here,” said the captain, look- 
ing at him curiously. Remembering the state of 
fiery indignation which our hero displayed a few 
minutes before, he was not prepared for this quiet 
acquiescence. 


156 SINK OR SWIM 

“So youVe changed your mind, have you?’’ he 
asked. 

“No, Captain Brandon,” answered Harry, 
firmly. “I have been treacherously entrapped on 
board this vessel, and I remain here against my 
will ; but as long as I stay I may as well have some- 
thing to do. I will act as cabin boy, and shall 
expect to receive a cabin boy’s wages.” 

“Well, I’m glad you’ve turned sensible,” said 
Brandon. “It would have been the worse for you 
if you hadn’t.” 

“I don’t intend to deceive you as to my inten- 
tions, Captain Brandon,” continued Harry, boldly. 
“I mean to leave this ship the first chance I get.” 

“That won’t be very soon,” sneered Brandon, 
“as I don’t expect to stop anywhere until I reach 
China. If you want to leave me there I shan’t take 
any great pains to catch you.” 

By this time Harry had changed his clothes, and 
had all the appearance of a young sailor. 

“Now go and report yourself to the mate,” said 
Captain Brandon. 

Harry left the cabin and went up on deck. He 
saw and recognized the man to whom the captain 
had spoken the day before, and walked up to him. 

“I believe you are the mate, sir,” he said. 

“Well, my lad, who are you — the new cabin 


SINK OR SWIM 157 

“Yes, sir. The captain ordered me to report to 
you.” 

“Tom Patch!” said the mate, calling one of the 
sailors near by. 

Tom Patch came forward, hitching up his pants, 
as he advanced with a regular sailor’s roll. He 
had a short, square-built figure, and a face bronzed 
by exposure to the suns of every clime. But his 
expression was honest and intelligent, not brutish 
and stupid, as is the case with many who have 
followed the sea for years without rising above the 
position of a common sailor. 

“Show him his bunk. Patch, and break him in.” 

“Ay, ay, sir,” said Patch, turning to Harry, 
whom he surveyed with interest. 

“Come with me, my lad,” he said. 

They descended into the forecastle, where Harry 
was assigned to a bunk near that of the sailor under 
whose care he had been placed. 

“You’re a green hand, I reckon, my lad,” said 
Tom. 

“Yes,” said our hero. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re going to sea. I don’t 
see how folks can be contented to live on shore.” 

“Do you mean that?” asked Harry, rather 
amused. 

“Of course I do.” 

“Then I don’t agree with you. I’d rather be 
on land.” 


158 SINK OR SWIM 

“Mayhap you’ve been seasick. You’ll get over 
it soon, and then you’ll find it jolly.” 

“No, I’ve not been sick; but I don’t like the sea.” 

“Then what brought you here?” said Tom, in 
natural wonder. 

“Captain Brandon. He served me a mean 
trick.” 

“Avast there, my lad!” said Tom, lowering his 
voice and looking around him significantly. “It 
ain’t best to talk ag’in the cap’n, leastways so he 
can hear.” 

“I’m not afraid,” said our hero firmly. “I told 
him so myself.” 

“What’s that?” asked Tom, incredulously. 

“I told Captain Brandon he had served me a 
mean trick.” 

“And he knocked you down with a belaying- 
pin?” suggested Tom. 

“No, he didn’t,” said Harry, quietly. 

“Then you got off easy. Better not say it ag’in, 
my lad.” 

“It’s true.” 

“Never mind that. It ain’t best to tell the truth 
at all times. You shall spin me the yarn some 
time when we are snugly stowed away out of ear- 
shot, my lad. Now we must go to work.” 

Harry accompanied Tom to the deck, and his 
experience as a sailor commenced. 

I do not propose to give a detailed account of 


SINK OR SWIM 159 

what these duties were, as this does not profess 
to be a sea story, and will touch the sea only so 
far as it will prove necessary to make Harry’s po- 
sition understood. Days passed away, and, in ac- 
cordance with the resolution he had formed, our 
hero attended strictly to duty. Being a smart boy, 
he very soon mastered the details of his duties, and 
discharged them in such a manner that no fault 
could be justly found with him. But Captain Bran- 
don continued to view him with an eye of suspicion. 
He had not forgotten nor forgiven the bold and 
defiant manner in which Harry had expressed him- 
self when he first realized that he had been en- 
trapped on board the Sea Eagle. He blamed him- 
self now that he had not inflicted a humiliating 
punishment upon Harry at the time, and he care- 
fully scrutinized his conduct in order to find a pre- 
text for paying off the old score. 

But Harry thus far gave him no opportunity. 
He had not made any complaints against the cap- 
tain to any one except Tom Patch, to whom he 
told the whole story, winning the stout-hearted 
sailor’s sympathy and friendship. Thus Harry 
felt that he had one friend on the vessel ; nay, two, 
for the supercargo, of whom mention has already 
been made, had by no means forgotten the prom- 
ise he made to our hero to be his friend. He fre- 
quently approached him when at work, and con- 
versed with him in a pleasant manner, as with an 


i6o SINK OR SWIM 

equal, never putting on an air of condescension, 
as some In his position would have done. 

This Intimacy and evident good feeling between 
the supercargo and our hero, Captain Brandon saw 
with dissatisfaction. He had tried to cultivate an 
Intimacy with Mr. Weldon himself, from motives 
of policy, on account of his relationship to the 
owner of the ship, and the probability that he 
would some day himself be a member of the firm ; 
but It had not taken the supercargo long to ascer- 
tain the real character of the captain. In which he 
found very little to attract him. So, though he 
treated Captain Brandon with scrupulous civility, 
there was a coolness In his manner which effectually 
precluded any degree of Intimacy. The captain 
saw this and chafed at It. It humiliated him, yet 
he could not resent It. The young man was stu- 
diously polite and respectful, and gave him no 
cause for complaint. But he saw that his cere- 
monious politeness melted away when he spoke to 
Harry Raymond, whom he addressed In a cordial, 
kindly manner which bespoke friendship. Captain 
Brandon brooded over this, being of a jealous, sus- 
picious temper, and resolved, on the first occasion 
that presented Itself, to take vengeance upon 
Harry, and thus at once gratify his dislike for our 
hero and the supercargo. 

There was another member of the ship’s crew 
whom It will be necessary to Introduce. 


SINK OR SWIM i6i 

This was Jack Rodman, a boy somewhat older 
than Harry, and as different from our hero as can 
well be imagined. He was coarse, ignorant and 
vicious, and could swear with as great fluency as 
any sailor twice his age. He made at first some 
approaches to intimacy with our hero, but Harry 
was too disgusted with what he had seen of him 
to care much about striking up a friendship. On 
this account Jack bore a grudge against our hero, 
and would have played some mischievous trick 
upon him but for Tom Patch’s evident friendship 
for Harry. Jack was afraid of the stout sailor, 
and felt compelled to effect his object in an under- 
hand manner. 

Among the peculiarities of Captain Brandon’s 
appearance was a very long nose, which, however 
useful it might be to the owner, was far from orna- 
mental. Brandon was aware of the prominence 
of this feature, and felt sensitive about it. As a 
boy he had been annoyed by the jocose allusions 
of his school-fellows to it, and nothing disturbed 
his temper more now than any reference to it, or 
even a significant glance at it. Jack Rodman had 
observed this peculiarity in the captain, and de- 
termined to take advantage of it in order to get 
Harry into trouble. 

One night, unobserved as he supposed, he drew 
with a piece of chalk a rude caricature of the cap- 
tain’s face, in a part of the vessel where it would 


i 62 sink or swim 

be likely to be seen by Brandon. The size of the 
nose was exaggerated, but there was also in the 
other features a general resemblance to the cap- 
tain, so that it was quite evident who was meant. 

Jack supposed that he was unobserved, and so 
he might have been, but for the accidental approach 
of the supercargo. 

Mr. Weldon glanced at what Jack was doing, 
and a smile came to his face. He was rather 
amused by the caricature, and, having no very par- 
ticular regard for the captain, passed on in silence, 
not feeling called upon to interfere. 

The next morning Captain Brandon, in pacing 
the deck, suddenly came face to face with the cari- 
cature, which had not been effaced. 

Instantly the blood rushed to his face. He could 
see the resemblance himself; and that made the 
matter worse. He felt that it was an insult to 
him, and he determined to inflict condign punish- 
ment upon the perpetrator of the insulting joke, 
if he could find him out. 

“Who did this?” he roared out at the top of 
his voice. 

The vehemance of his tone attracted general 
attention. The sailors looked at one another, and 
exchanged sly glances indicative of amusement. 

“Who did this?” exclaimed the captain again, 
stamping in rage. 

Nobody answ’ered. 


SINK OR SWIM 163 

“Why don’t you answer, some of you?” con- 
tinued the angry captain. “Point out the man, and 
I’ll flog him till he can’t stand.” 

Even this inducement was not sufficient to ex- 
tract the name of the culprit. 

Captain Brandon resolved to use other means. 

“I’ll give five dollars to the man who’ll tell me 
who drew this figure.” 

Jack Rodman came on deck just as this offer 
was made. His eyes sparkled with joy. He not 
only had it in his power to get Harry into trouble, 
but he would be rewarded for doing it. This was 
more than he had bargained for, but Jack reflected 
that the money would be very acceptable to him 
when he got on shore. 

“I know who did it. Captain Brandon,” he said, 
touching his hat. 

“Ah I” said the captain, turning towards Jack. 
“Tell me at once, then.” 

did it,” said Jack, pointing out Harry, who, 
like the rest, was an interested spectator of the 
scene. 

“Did he do it?” growled Brandon, looking 
menacingly at our hero. 

“Yes, I saw him do it.” 

“When did he do it?” 

“Last evening.” 

By this time Harry, who had been struck dumb 
by the suddenness of the accusation, and the evi- 


1 64 SINK OR SWIM 

dent malice of Jack, recovered himself, and said 

boldly: 

“Captain Brandon, that is a lie, and Jack Rod- 
man knows it is. I know nothing of the figure, 
and had nothing to do with it.” 

“I saw you do it,” said Jack, with a malicious 
grin. 

“I have no doubt he did it,” said the captain, 
furiously. “Strip him, and we’ll give him a taste 
of the lash.” 


SINK OR SWIM 


165 


CHAPTER XXI 

AN UNEXPECTED VICTORY. 

The captain’s order was a general one and ad- 
dressed to no one in particular. The sailors stood 
still, therefore, till the captain exclaimed again, 
stamping fiercely: 

“Seize him, I say, and strip him.” 

With a grin of enjoyment Jack Rodman started 
forward and prepared to obey the captain’s com- 
mand. He expected to be supported by others of 
the crew, but found himself alone. Still he was 
taller and stouter than Harry, and felt confident 
of an easy victory over him. 

When our hero saw him approach he said, in a 
cool, collected manner, by no means intimidated by 
the prospect of a conflict with his superior in size : 

“Stand off. Jack Rodman, if you know what’s 
good for yourself I” 

“What can you do?” sneered Jack, and he gave 
a glance at the captain for encouragement. 

“Give him a thrashing!” said the captain, an- 
ticipating with pleasure the utter discomfiture of 


i66 SINK OR SWIM 

Harry, who, so far as appearances went, was de- 
cidedly the weaker of the two. But appearances 
are sometimes deceitful, and Jack Rodman would 
not have been by any means so confident of an easy 
victory had he been aware that our hero, as pre- 
viously stated, was no mean proficient in the art 
of self-defence, having been initiated in the science 
of boxing by a young man from New York who 
spent a summer in Vernon. 

“A ring ! a ring I” shouted the sailors. ‘‘Let ’em 
have it out!” 

No opposition being made by the officers, the 
crew at once formed a ring round the two com- 
batants. A few of the more generous sympathized 
with the “little one,” as they called Harry; but 
with the majority there was no particular sentiment, 
except a desire to see the fight, with no preference 
for either party. Prominent in the ring was Tom 
Patch, Harry’s friend. His honest, bronzed face 
was shadowed by anxiety, for he, like the rest, had 
no doubt that Harry would get whipped. He 
longed to have a part in the fray, and take his 
side by his young friend ; but that, of course, could 
not be allowed. 

“It’s a shame,” he muttered. “It ain’t a fair 
match. Jack’s twenty pounds heavier than the 
little one.” 

“Let ’em fight it out! Who cares which gets 
whipped?” said the next sailor. 


SINK OR SWIM 167 

“I do,” said Tom. ‘‘The little fellow’s a good 
one, and I don’t believe he made the figger.” 

“Silence, men !” exclaimed the captain, in an au- 
thoritative voice. “Pitch into him, boy, and mind 
you give him a sound flogging, or you’ll get one 
yourself.” 

Jack did not need to be urged on. He had an 
unreasoning and unreasonable hatred to our hero, 
whom he instinctively felt to be his superior in 
every way but one, though he did not choose to 
acknowledge it; that was in physical strength, in 
which he felt confident that he excelled Harry. He 
accordingly advanced in a blustering way, confident 
of an easy victory, swinging his fists in an unscien- 
tific way. 

Harry awaited his approach calmly, quietly put- 
ting himself in the proper attitude of defence. 
With his fists doubled up, prepared for action, and 
one foot advanced before the other, he stood, 
watching warily the demonstrations of his antago- 
nist. Jack did not comprehend the meaning of 
this preparation, and continued to advance, with 
rash confidence in his own prowess. He made a 
fierce lunge against our hero, not taking care to 
protect himself against assault. The consequence 
was, that while Harry parried the blow with one 
hand, with the other he planted a smart blow in 
Rodman’s face, which, striking his nose^ drew 
blood. 


i68 SINK OR SWIM 

There was a shout of applause, mingled with 
surprise, at this unexpected turning of the tables. 

“Good for you !” “I bet on the little one !” “He’s 
got pluck!” was heard from the sailors. 

Perhaps the most astonished person on deck was 
Jack Rodman himself. Evidently he had made 
some mistake in his calculations. He had gone in 
for an easy victory, and expected that his first blow 
would prove a crusher. But, instead of this, his 
own nose was bleeding, and his small antagonist 
stood facing him, as cool and composed as if, in- 
stead of being an actor in the contest, he had only 
been an indifferent spectator. 

How did it all happen ? That was what puzzled 
Jack. He took a fresh look at Harry, to make 
sure that he was as right in his first impression as to 
his inferior size and strength. 

“Give it to him. Jack! Don’t let him get the 
best of vou !” called out a backer. 

“No,' I won’t,” growled Jack. “I’ll chaw 
him up.” 

Our hero listened to this threat without being 
discomposed. He had made a critical survey of 
his antagonist, and formed an estimate of his abil- 
ity. He saw that Jack was his superior in strength, 
and if they should come to a close contest that he 
would get the worst of it. But he saw also that 
of scientific fighting Jack knew nothing. HI» 


SINK OR SWIM 169 

course was to keep him at arm’s length, and con- 
duct the contest on scientific principles. 

Jack rushed in again with the same headlong 
precipitation as before, and his reception was about 
the same as before. This time our hero planted a 
blow in his left eye, which caused Jack to stagger 
back with a howl of dismay and rage. By this 
time his blood was up, and he was driven on by 
a kind of blind fury, aggravated by the mortifica- 
i tion he experienced at being worsted by a smaller 
f boy in presence of the ship’s crew. His reputation 
was at stake. He knew that if he retired from 
the contest defeated he would never hear the last 
of it. A coward and a bully by nature, he never 
would have made the first attack had he anticipated 
that Harry would prove so powerful an antago- 
nist ; but now he was in for it his blood was up, and 
he determined, as the boys say, “to go in and win.” 

He made another furious dash, and tried hard 
to seize Harry round the middle, when he would 
have found it an easy task, in consequence of his 
superior strength, to throw him down, and take 
vengeance upon him for the personal damage he 
had already received. But our hero understood 
very well his purpose, and braced himself for what 
he instinctively felt would be the final contest. He 
eluded the grasp of his furious adversary, and 
planted two blows quick as lightning, one in his 
breast, the other in his face. While Jack was stag- 


lyo SINK OR SWIM 

gering under them, he gathered up his strength., 
and put it all into one final blow, which finished 
the w^ork effectively. Jack fell on deck heavily, 
and so bewildered was he that he lay there motion- 
dess, and did not at first attempt to rise. 

This quite turned the tide in favor of our hero. 
Sailors admire pluck, especially when It Is shown 
by a little fellow contending against odds. There 
was a chorus of approving exclamations, expressed 
In the characteristic sailor dialect, and Harry, 
standing in the center of the ring, his face flushed 
with the excitement of the contest, was transformed 
in the eyes of all Into a hero. The most delighted 
of all was Tom Patch, who swung his hat, and 
called out for three cheers for the victor. The 
result was the mor^ gratifying to him, because 
wholly unexpected. The supercargo, also, standing 
aloof from the ring, had witnessed the contest, and 
his sympathies also had been with our hero, for he 
had already formed an opinion far from favorable 
of Jack Rodman, whom he had another reason for 
not liking. 

But there was one to whom the result of the con- 
test w’as in the highest degree unsatisfactory. This 
was Captain Brandon. He had been far from 
anticipating such a denouement and a frown gath- 
ered on his face. 

“Get up and try It again !” he said to Jack. 

But Jack Rodman had had enough of It. The 


SINK OR SWIM 17 1 

last five minutes had enlightened him considerably 
on the subject of Harry’s prowess, and he did not 
care to trust himself again in his hands. Besides, 
his nose was damaged, and his eye swollen, and he 
felt decidedly worse for the exercise he had just 
taken. Accordingly he intimated that he did not 
feel very well, and positively refused to renew the 
fight. 

“All right!” growled Captain Brandon. “I’ve 
got an account to settle with the boy myself. He 
may not get off so easily out of my hands. Men, 
go back to your work.” 

At the captain’s word of command the ring was 
broken, and the sailors returned to the duties which 
had been Interrupted by the contest that has just 
been described. 

“Now, you young rascal,” said Captain Bran- 
don, menacingly, “what did you mean by that 

picture?” filling up the blank with an oath, with 
which I do not choose to soil this page. 

“I have already told you. Captain Brandon,” 
said Harry, firmly, “that I had nothing to do with 
the drawing.” 

“It’s a lie!” said the captain hoarsely. 

“It’s the truth,” repeated Harry, glancing com- 
posedly at the face of Captain Brandon, distorted 
wdth rage. 

“Do you dare to contradict me ?” exclaimed the 
captain, furiously. 


172 SINK OR SWIM 

“I contradict no one,” said Harry. “I only say 
that I had nothing to do with that picture. I did 
not see it till this morning, a short time before you 
charged me with it.” 

“You’re lie shan’t save you !” exclaimed Captain 
Brandon. “I’ll take you in hand myself, and we’ll 
see who’ll come off best.” 

Harry turned pale. He knew that he was no 
match for a grown man, and he saw that in the 
present state of the captain’s temper he was likely 
to suffer severely. That he should dread the treat- 
ment he was likely to receive was only natural, but 
he showed no outward fear, save in the paleness 
of his cheeks. He stood manfully, with his lips 
compressed, waiting for the attack. But help came 
to him from an unexpected quarter. 

“Stop one moment. Captain Brandon!” said the 
supercargo, and there was a tone of authority in 
the young man’s voice. 

The captain turned. 

“Mr. Weldon,” he said, “this is no affair of 
yours. I will thank you to attend to your own 
business.” 

“Captain Brandon, you are about to punish this 
boy for nothing.” 

“Do you call that nothing?” asked the captain, 
indicating the caricature. 

“He had no hand in It.” 

“So he says.” 


173 


SINK OR SWIM 

“He tells the truth.” 

“Perhaps you can tell me who drew it, then?” 
sneered the captain. 

1 can. 

For one moment the captain thought that the 
supercargo might himself have been implicated; 
but he saw that this was absurd. 

“Who did it, then?” 

“The boy he was fighting with, Jack Rodman.” 

“Are you sure of this?” demanded the captain, 
in amazement. 

“Yes; I saw him myself engaged upon it last 
evening. I would not have betrayed him had he 
not tried to implicate an innocent party.” 

Captain Brandon knew not what to think. He 
could not doubt the supercargo’s word after this 
positive statement, nor could he proceed to punish 
Harry for a fault which, as it appeared, he had not 
committed. Yet, strange as it may appear, he felt 
more incensed against Harry, who was proved to 
be innocent, than against Jack Rodman, whom he 
knew to be guilty. He could not help wishing that 
he had not been told the truth of the matter until 
he had inflicted punishment upon our hero. 

In return for the supercargo’s explanation, he 
did not reply a word, but, turning on his heel, de- 
scended the companion-way to the cabin, where he 
kept himself for the next two or three hours. After 


174 SINK OR SWIM 

he had left the deck, Harry went up to the super- 
cargo, and in a frank way said : 

“I cannot tell you, Mr. Weldon, how much I am 
obliged to you for coming to my defence.” 

“I told you I would stand your friend when you 
stood in need of one,” said the young man, kindly. 
“I am thankful that I was able to do it so effec- 
tually.” 

He took Harry’s hand and pressed It warmly. 
Our young hero felt, with a thrill of thankfulness, 
that he had at least one good friend on board the 
Sea Eagle; two, in fact, for Tom Patch he knew 
would stand by him through thick and thin. 


SINK OR SWIM 


175 


CHAPTER XXII 

IN SUSPENSE 

We must now go back to Vernon, and Inquire 
how Mrs. Raymond is getting on, while Harry Is 
each day drifting further and further away from 
home. 

Harry’s first and only letter from the city has 
already been given. It brought comfort and a 
degree of hopefulness to his mother. She felt that 
she could bear her solitude better if Harry was 
doing well. A few years, and they might be to- 
gether again, as he anticipated; perhaps living In 
New York. In the meantime, he must come home 
once a month at least. Then his letters would, no 
doubt, be frequent. 

Two days passed, however, and no letter. She 
began to get anxious, but reflected that Harry 
probably had a great deal to do. Still It was not 
like him to neglect her. He was too thoughtful 
and considerate a boy for that. 

Two days more passed, and still no letter. Mrs. 
Raymond now became very anxious. She had about 


176 SINK OR SWIM 

made up her mind to go up to the city herself, 
though she could ill spare the money needful for 
the trip, when she met Squire Turner in the street, 
on the way home from the postoffice. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Raymond, he said, gra- 
ciously; “what do you hear from Harry? I am 
told he has gone to the city to seek his fortune.” 

Mrs. Raymond was glad to have some one to 
whom she could impart her anxiety. 

“I am feeling very anxious about him,” she said. 
“I received a letter from Harry four days ago, 
just after he reached New York, and I have heard 
nothing since.” 

“No doubt he is very busy,” said the squire. 

“He would not be too busy to write me a few 
lines. He would know that I should feel anxious,” 
said Mrs. Raymond. 

“Don’t feel troubled, Mrs. Raymond. I know 
how it is with boys. They dislike writing letters. 
It was the way with me when I was a boy.” 

She shook her head. 

“It isn’t the way with Harry,” she said. “He 
knows too well how lonely I am without him, and 
how much I depend upon hearing from him.” 

“Perhaps he has written, and the letter has mis- 
carried. Letters often do. I have it happen fre- 
quently.” 

“It may be,” said Mrs. Raymond, with momen» 
tary relief. “I wish I was sure of it. He is my 


SINK OR SWIM 177 

only boy, Squire Turner. If anything should hap- 
pen to him, it would break my heart.” 

Knowing full well the wicked plot he had con- 
trived against this poor woman’s peace and happi- 
ness, Squire Turner felt a momentary thrill of com- 
punction at what he had done. But his innate 
selfishness soon conquered this feeling. He had 
too many reasons for wishing Harry away, to sym- 
pathize with his mother. 

“Very likely you’ll get a letter to-night,” he said. 

“If not, I shall go to the city to-morrow morn- 
ing,” said Mrs. Raymond. “I am afraid some- 
thing has happened to Harry.” 

Here was a chance for Squire Turner to make 
what would be regarded as a friendly offer. 

“Mrs. Raymond,” he said, “it will be quite an 
undertaking for you to go to the city, not to men- 
tion the expense, which will, of course, be a con- 
sideration with you. I was thinking of going there 
myself one day next week, but as you are feeling 
anxious about Harry, I will change my plans, and 
go to-morrow. I will hunt up your son, and bring 
you home full particulars about him. I don’t think, 
however, you need to feel anxious.” 

“O, Squire Turner, will you, indeed?” said the 
poor woman, gratefully. “You are very kind, and 
I shall feel it as a great favor.” 

“Certainly; it will give me great pleasure to 


178 SINK OR SWIM 

oblige you. If you have anything to send him, I 

will carry it with pleasure.” 

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I will ask 
you 10 carry a pair of stockings I have just footed 
for him. And will you tell him to be sure to change 
his stockings if he gets his feet wet?” 

“I will, with pleasure, carry any message. But 
why not write a note and send by me?” 

“I think I will, if you will be so kind as to 
carry it.” 

“Oh, don’t mention it! I hope, Mrs. Raymond, 
you will regard me as a near friend. If you will 
write the letter in the course of the day, I will send 
James round after supper to get it.” 

“I am afraid it will be too much trouble for your 
son.” 

“Not at all, not at all,” said Squire Turner, 
cordially. 

Mrs. Raymond parted from the squire, feeling 
more favorably disposed towards him than ever be- 
fore. To confess the truth, he had never been 
much of a favorite of hers. His cold, disagreeable 
manners, and his general reputation as a hard, 
close-fisted man, had repelled not only her, but peo- 
ple generally. But now he seemed wonderfully 
thawed out. He was actually genial and cordial, 
and the manner in which he had entered into her 
feelings about Harry, and his kind offer to go to 


SINK OR SWIM 179 

the city on a day he had not Intended, produced a 
strong impression upon her mind. 

“I didn’t think Squire Turner could be so kind,” 
she said to herself. “I have done him Injustice. 
He has a good heart, after all.” 

“James,” said Squire Turner, at the supper table 
that evening, “I want you to go over to Mrs. Ray- 
mond’s, directly after supper.” 

“What for?” asked James. 

“I am going to New York to-morrow morning, 
and have agreed to carry a letter and small parcel 
to her son Harry.” 

James turned up his nose. 

“Why don’t she come to the house, and bring It, 
then ?” he asked. 

“I promised to send you.” 

“I don’t want to be Mrs. Raymond’s errand boy. 
Harry Raymond Is a low upstart, and I shouldn’t 
think you would be willing to carry bundles for 
him.” 

“That Is my business,” said Squire Turner, who, 
but for private reasons, might have shared his son’s 
objections. 

“I’ve got a headache,” said James. “I don’t 
feel like going out.” 

His father understood very well that this was 
not true. Still he had always been In the habit of 
humoring James In his whims, and now, instead of 


i8o SINK OR SWIM 

exerting his rightful authority as a parent to secure 
obedience, he condescended to conciliate him. 

“If you have a headache,” he said, “the fresh 
air may do you good. Go as quick as you can, and 
when you come back I will give you a dollar.” 

This argument, addressed to his son’s selfishness, 
prevailed. James had seen at the village store a 
new fishing-pole, which he desired to buy, and with 
the promised reward he could do so. 

“Can’t you give me the money now ?” he asked. 
“There’s something I want to buy at the store, on 
the way.” 

“You’ll have to go there after you return,” said 
the squire, who at once saw that this was the best 
way of securing a prompt return. 

James took his cap and started for the cottage 
of the Widow Raymond. 

“The old man’s getting mighty obliging,” he 
muttered to himself, meaning, of course, his father, 
by the not very respectable term used. “I should 
be too proud, if I were he, to carry bundles to that 
pauper, Harry Raymond. Anyhow, I get a dollar 
by the operation, and that’s something.” 

Arrived at the cottage, James knocked sharply 
at the outer door. It was opened almost Immedi- 
ately by Mrs. Raymond herself. 

“Good-evening, James,” she said, courteously. 
“Won’t you walk in?” 

“Can’t stop,” said James. “I’m In a great hurry. 


SINK OR SWIM i8i 

Have you got that note ready you wanted to send 
to the city?” 

“I’ll get it in a moment. But you had better 
step in.” 

“No, I can’t,” said James, not taking the trouble 
to acknowledge the invitation. “I am in a great 
hurry.” 

Mrs. Raymond went back into her sitting-room, 
and speedily reappeared with the note and the pair 
of stockings wrapped in a brown paper. 

“I am sorry to trouble you with this parcel,” she 
said. “Your father was so kind as to offer to 
carry it.” 

“Umph!” muttered James, ungraciously. 

“I am much obliged to him, and to you also for 
your trouble in coming around for it.” 

James did not deign a reply, but, turning his 
back, marched off, feeling that he would rather 
have carried a bundle for any one than for Harry 
Raymond. If he could have known that at this 
very moment the boy whom he hated so intensely 
was speeding away from America, doing the duties 
of a sailor boy, he would have felt compensated for 
the disagreeable nature of the favor he was so un- 
willingly doing. 

Squire Turner went to the city the next day, as 
he proposed. He went round to the office in Nas- 
sau Street, temporarily occupied by Lemuel Fair- 
child, the address having been communicated to 


I82 SINK OR SWIM 

him by Mrs. Raymond, though this was hardly 
necessary, as Hartley Brandon had apprised him 
by letter of the details of the plot which they had 
mutually arranged. Of course he found it locked, 
and the tenant gone. The great commission house 
of Fairchild & Co. had mysteriously disappeared. 
In order to have something to report, he called at 
the next room. 

‘‘Can you tell me,” he asked, “whether Mr. Fair- 
child still occupies the adjoining room?” 

“No,” was the reply; “he only occupied it for a 
week, and then left. I understand that he left with- 
out paying his rent.” 

“Indeed!” said Squire Turner; “that surprises 
me. I understood that he was at the head of a 
large and responsible business house.” 

The other laughed. 

“If you had seen him, you would soon have cor- 
rected your mistake. He was a seedy adventurer. 
I don’t believe he was worth twenty-five dollars in 
the world.” 

“Indeed!” repeated the squire; “I am concerned 
to hear this. The fact is, the son of one of my 
neighbors — a widow — came to the city to enter his 
employ. One letter has been received from him, 
but no other. His mother is feeling very anxious. 
How long since they vacated the room?” 

“I have not seen him for four or five days.” 

“Did you see anything of the boy?” 


SINK OR SWIM 183 

“Yes; I saw a boy here last Monday, and on 
Tuesday morning, but not since. Fairchild was 
here for a few minutes in the afternoon; but he, 
too, has been absent from that time.” 

“Really this looks suspicious. What would you 
advise me to do?” asked Squire Turner, with an 
appearance of concern. 

“Lay the matter before the police authorities. 
Most likely this Fairchild is a swindler, and they 
may know something about him. I know of noth- 
ing else to advise.” 

“Thank you. I believe I will follow your advice. 
Good morning.” 

“Good morning, sir.” 

Squire Turner decided in reality to follow his 
recommendation. Nothing was better adapted to 
clear him personally of any suspicions of having 
had a hand in Harry’s abduction, in the improbable 
contingency of such suspicion being aroused. Be- 
sides this, he was founding a claim to Mrs. Ray- 
mond’s gratitude, which might lead her hereafter 
to regard his suit with favor, in case he should find 
it politic to seek her in marriage. He accordingly 
called at the police headquarters, and laid the case 
before the authorities, taking care, however, not to 
be explicit, as he had no wish to have Fairchild 
actually arrested. 

He also called at the office of a morning paper, 
and, obtaining copies for the last three or four 


iS4 SINK OR SWIM 

days, read, with satisfaction, the record of the Sea 

Eagle’s sailing. 

“Now,” he thought to himself, “the field is clear, 
and I can carry out my plans without interruption.” 


SINK OR SWIM 


iZs 


CHAPTER XXIII 

SEEKING FOR HARRY 

Squire Turner arrived in Vernon in time for a 
late supper. After partaking of it, he took his hat 
and cane, and walked round to Mrs. Raymond’s 
cottage. Seeing him from the window, she has- 
tened to open the door, and gazed with a look of 
anxious inquiry into his face. 

“Did you see Harry?” she asked quickly, for- 
getting in her anxiety for her son even to bid the 
squire good evening. 

“No, Mrs. Raymond; but I will come in and tell 
you all about it.” 

His face was grave, and his voice was sympa- 
thetic. The poor woman, her heart full of a terri- 
ble anxiety, haunted by undefined fears, led the way 
into the plain sitting-room, and then said, in a voice 
of entreaty, “Tell me quick. Squire Turner, has 
anything happened to my boy?” 

“Let us hope not, Mrs. Raymond. I assure you 
I know of no harm that has come to him, but — I 
could not find him.” 


i86 


SINK OR SWIM 

“You forgot the number?’* she inquired, eagerly. 

“No, I remembered the number. Besides, it 
was on your letter and bundle. But I find that Mr. 
Fairchild has moved from his office on Nassau 
Street.” 

“Has moved — ^where?” 

“That I could not learn. It seems that the office 
was closed the day after your son’s arrival in New 
Y ork — that is, on Tuesday. I made inquiry of the 
occupant of the next office, but that was all he could 
tell me, except that he believed Mr. Fairchild had 
gone away without paying his rent.” 

Mrs. Raymond looked surprised. 

“I don’t understand it,” she said. “Harry wrote 
that he was doing a large business. I thought the 
firm was one of the largest in New York.” 

“Let us hope that the information I received was 
incorrect,” said the squire. “We will suppose that 
Mr. Fairchild found it necessary to move, on ac- 
count of the demands of an extensive business. The 
office on Nassau Street was a small one, and I 
should hardly suppose it would be adequate to his 
wants.” 

“But Harry said nothing about moving. Be- 
sides, if they did move, I should think he would 
have written me since.” 

“There is something in what you say,” the squire 
answered. “In fact, I confess the affair has 
puzzled me. It is possible, however, as I suggested 


SINK OR SWIM 187 

the other day, that he may have written, and the 
letter miscarried.” 

“Do you think anything has happened to Harry, 
Squire Turner?” asked Mrs. Raymond. 

“I hope not.” 

“But you think it possible?” 

“I don’t know what could have happened.” 

“But it seems suspicious, Mr. Fairchild’s moving 
away so quickly.” 

“Yes, that does look suspicious,” admitted the 
squire. “In fact, I thought it best to lay the matter 
before the police authorities, so that if there is any- 
thing wrong they may ferret it out.” 

“Oh, I wish that Harry had never gone to the 
city,” murmured Mrs. Raymond, sorrowfully. “I 
was not in favor of it from the first. I tried to 
have him stay at home, but he was possessed to go 
to the city.” 

“It is natural, Mrs. Raymond, that a spirited 
boy should get tired of a small village like Vernon, 
and want to enter a larger field. It may turn out 
all right. Don’t decide too hastily that anything 
has happened to him.” 

“I shall not sleep any to-night. Squire Turner, 
I think I must go to the city to-morrow.” 

“I would not advise you to do so, Mrs. Ray- 
mond. You could do no good there. I have placed 
tMe matter in the hands of the police authorities, 


i88 SINK OR SWIM 

and whatever there is to be found out th;iy will 
ascertain and communicate to me.” 

“But it seems so hard to wait in suspense.” 

“That is true. I will tell you what I will do. f 
know your anxiety, and if nothing should be heard 
before next Tuesday, I will go to the city again, and 
make what additional Inquiries I can.” 

“Thank you. Squire Turner. You are truly kind. 
How can I ever repay you for your great kind- 
ness?” 

“Don’t mention it, Mrs. Raymond. I know you 
have no one to look out for you now, and it is a 
pleasure to me to feel that I am able to be of 
service.” 

The squire took his leave, pressing Mrs. Ray- 
mond’s hand gently to indicate the sympathy which 
he felt for her. 

“I believe I played my part pretty well,” he said 
to himself, as he went out. “She will never suspect 
that I had anything to do with the abduction of her 
son. When the affair has blown over a little, I will 
go to Milwaukee, and see Robinson about the land 
warrant, and its probable value. If the affair can 
be compromised, so as to bring Mrs. Raymond ten 
thousand dollars, I will offer myself. That will be 
a pretty addition to my property. Besides, when 
her son gets home, and finds that I am his mother’s 
husband, his mouth will be shut about that con- 
founded fire. Maybe, he will fall overboard, and 


SINK OR SWIM 189 

lever come back. If that happens, I shan’t shed 
many tears. He is an obstinate, impracticable boy, 
and I shall be rid of him.” 

Thus the squire soliloquized. 

Meanwhile, three days passed. It was Monday 
evening. Again he called to see the widow, now, 
as it happened, doubly bereft of husband and son. 

“Have you had a letter, Mrs. Raymond?” he 
inquired. 

“No,” she answered, sorrowfully. “I hoped you 
might have heard something.” 

The squire shook his head. 

“I wish I had any such news to give you,” he 
said; “but I have heard nothing whatever.” 

“I am sure Harry is dead,” said the poor 
mother, bursting into tears. 

“No, no, I am sure he is not,” said the squire, 
soothingly. “There are twenty ways of accounting 
for his silence, before adopting such an extreme 
view as this.” 

“I have hardly closed my eyes in sleep for the 
last three nights,” said Mrs. Raymond; and her 
pale face and swollen eyes testified to the literal 
correctness of what she said. 

“Don’t worry too much,” said the squire. “We 
shall hear of Harry yet. To-morrow I will go to 
the city again. If it will be any satisfaction to you, 
I will invite you to accompany me.” 

“I will go,” said the poor mother. “It will be 


1^0 SINK OR SWIM 

better than staying at home. I shall feel that I am 
doing something to find my lost Harry. You are 
very kind to invite me.” 

“Don’t mention it,” said the squire. “I will call 
round in the morning, and carry you to the depot 
in my carriage.” 

“I will be ready.” 

The next day, therefore. Squire Turner, accom- 
panied by Mrs. Raymond, went to New York. 
They went round to the office in Nassau Street, but, 
as may be expected, learned nothing in addition to 
the facts previously gathered. Next, they went to 
the office of the Superintendent of Police, but 
learned nothing definite beyond this, that Lemuel 
Fairchild, instead of being a responsible business 
man, was a needy adventurer. He had disappeared 
from the city, and thus far the police had been 
unable to trace him. What intention he could have 
had in pretending to be a commission merchant, 
and, above all, what could have induced him to send 
for Harry, was a mystery which it seemed difficult 
to explain. The superintendent promised to pursue 
his inquiries, and to endeavor to obtain information 
concerning Harry and his employer, both of whom 
had strangely disappeared. With this they were 
obliged to be content, unsatisfactory as it was. 

With a heavy heart Mrs. Raymond made her 
homeward journey. Thus far she had thought 
only of the personal grief she had suffered in the 


SINK OR SWIM 19 1 

loss of Harry. But another consideration very 
soon forced itself upon her mind. In losing Harry 
she had lost her main support. How was she to 
sustain herself and little Katy? Already the small 
amount of ready money which her husband had left 
behind him was exhausted, and as yet she knew of 
no way of earning more. It was Squire Turner who 
first opened the subject to her. 

“I have no doubt,” he said, “that Harry will 
return after a while, and explain his absence in a 
satisfactory manner. But, meanwhile, you will, of 
course, suffer inconvenience from the loss of his 
wages. Have you thought of any plan?” 

“No,” she answered, wearily. “I have no pleas- 
ure in living, now that my husband and son are 
gone.” 

“You must live for the sake of little Katy, and 
for the sake of Harry, who will return some day.” 

“Yes, Katy will need me; Harry I shall never 
see again.” 

“You think so now; but I am sure he will return. 
I have taken the liberty to form a plan for you, 
supposing that you were too much occupied by your 
grief to form any for yourself.” 

“You are very kind. Squire Turner.” 

“I will advance you a hundred dollars, which can 
be added to the mortgage I hold on your place. 
With a part of it you can buy a sewing-machine, 


192 SINK OR SWIM 

and take in work. I am needing a dozen shirts 

made, if you will undertake them.” 

Mrs. Raymond felt that this was a kind and wise 
plan, and so expressed herself. Accordingly, the 
sewing-machine was bought, and it was understood 
that Mrs. Raymond was ready to take in sewing. 
She obtained considerable employment, but not 
enough to pay all her expenses. Every month she 
found herself going behindhand, and getting more 
and more into debt to Squire Turner. 

But we must leave her now, and follow the for- 
tunes of our young hero. 


SINK OR SWIM 


193 


CHAPTER XXIV 

SQUIRE TURNER^S LETTER 

The affair of the caricature was suffered to pass 
without the punishment of the guilty party. Had 
not Harry found some one to clear him of the 
charge, he would have fared badly from the cap- 
tain’s brutality, Increased by his unfounded dislike. 
But In Jack Rodman the offence was passed over. 
Probably the captain suspected that the caricature 
had been drawm with the object of getting our hero 
Into trouble, and that no Insult was Intended to 
himself. 

It became evident to all on board that Harry 
was an object of dislike to the captain. Brandon 
never spoke to him except In a rough voice and 
with lowering looks, and would gladly have shown 
his dislike actively but for the restraining presence 
of Mr. Weldon, the supercargo, whose Interest In 
our hero dally grew stronger. 

As for Harry, he did his duty faithfully, as he 
had determined. His position was not to his liking, 


194 SINK OR SWIM 

and he meant to escape from It whenever an oppor- 
tunity offered ; but, until that time came, he thought 
it best to give the captain no cause of complaint. 
He often wondered whether Captain Brandon had 
Invited him on board with the Intention of carrying 
him off to sea. On this point he could not satisfy 
himself; for, though it certainly looked like It, he 
could conceive of no motive which Brandon could 
have for so acting. He was, as he supposed, a 
total stranger to him until the day before the vessel 
sailed. He concluded, therefore, that his detention 
was only accidental; but that the captain did not 
feel sufficient Interest in him to send him on shore In 
time. 

But a short time afterw^ards he made a discovery 
which threw a new and perplexing light upon his 
abduction. He was sent down Into the cabin one 
day on an errand. While there he saw an open 
letter lying upon the floor. Picking It up, with the 
Intention of placing it on the table, he happened to 
see his own name about the middle of the page. In 
his surprise he let his eye travel over the remainder 
of the letter. A light flashed upon him as he read, 
and, commencing at the beginning, he made himself 
acquainted with the whole letter. Then because 
he did not dare to stay longer, he hurriedly thrusl 
it into his pocket and went on deck. 

That we may understand how far Harry wat/ 
enlightened by its perusal, the letter is subjOinedf: 


SINK OR SWIM 195 

“Hartley Brandon — Your letter, detailing 
the steps which you have already taken, in order to 
carry out the plan which I mentioned to you, is re- 
ceived. I approve of all you have done. The most 
difficult part of the programme — getting the boy 
to the city — you have ingeniously provided for. 
The offer of a place in the city, with a salary of 
twelve dollars a week, will, undoubtedly, be very 
tempting to an ambitious boy like Harry Raymond. 
Now he is employed temporarily in the village store 
at six dollars a week, and that situation he must 
soon resign. He will, undoubtedly, swallow the 
bait, and when you have once got him to the city, 
you can easily devise means for getting him on 
board your vessel. By the way, I congratulate you 
on your unexpected accession to the post of captain. 
It will pay you better, and of course be more agree- 
able than that of mate. Besides, it will give you 
full power over young Raymond. If he should 
show signs of insubordination, which is quite possi- 
ble, for he is a high-spirited boy, have no mercy 
upon him. Let him feel your authority. Your 
voyage is fortunately a long one, and by the time 
you return he will probably be well tamed; if not, 
it will be your fault. 

“I do not know that I have anything more to 
add, except that of course you are never to mention 
my name to Raymond, or lead him in any way to 
suspect that there is any acquaintance between us. 


196 SINK OR SWIM 

On this point I am very particular, and should I 
discover that you have broken your word, I should 
disown all knowledge of the transaction, and with- 
hold the reward I promised. I inclose twenty-five 
dollars, which you say you have promised to your 
confederate, Lemuel Fairchild.” 

This was the whole of the letter. It was not 
signed, from motives of prudence, no doubt, for 
otherwise Squire Turner would have placed himself 
in the power of Brandon. But Harry was not for 
a moment in doubt as to the name of the writer. 
He was familiar with the squire’s handwriting, if 
there had not been internal evidence to show that 
it was written by him. 

But the discovery was far from clearing up the 
mystery. Why should Squire Turner enter into a 
plot to kidnap him? Was it because Harry had 
been a witness of the fire, and by his testimony 
could prevent the squire from receiving his insur- 
ance money? This was possible. At any rate 
Harry could think of nothing else. Had he under- 
stood the further motives which prompted Squire 
Turner’s action, he would have felt still more 
anxious than at present. Now he felt an eager 
wish to be at home, and confront the squire with 
the evidence he had obtained, as well as to prevent 
his obtaining money from the insurance company 


SINK OR SWIM 197 

on false pretences, as he felt persuaded that he In- 
tended to do. 

Our hero resolved to keep the letter he had acci- 
dentally discovered. It was not his, but its connec- 
tion with him justified him, he thought, in retaining 
it. As he might be suspected of having it, he hid 
it away, not wishing to have it found upon him in 
the event of a search. But Captain Brandon did 
not appear to miss it. At any rate, he made no in- 
quiry after it, and very probably supposed that it 
was still in his possession. 

Harry deliberated whether he should impart to 
any one the information he had obtained. Tom 
Patch was an honest fellow and a good friend, but 
he was an illiterate sailor, and, though he could 
give sympathy, his advice would be of little service. 
Mr. Weldon, on the other hand, had not only 
shown himself a friend, but he was a gentleman of 
education and judgment. Harry felt that he would 
be a safe counselor. Accordingly, one day when a 
good opportunity offered, he related to the super- 
cargo the discovery he had made, with enough of 
his home life to make the account intelligible. 

The young man listened in surprise. 

“This is a strange story, Harry,” he said. 

“Yes, sir, it is strange,” said our hero. “I could 
not have believed that Squire Turner would have 
treated me so meanly. 

“Your having seen him set fire to his house 


198 SINK OR SWIM 

makes it less strange. He could not draw the Insur- 
ance money if you chose to interfere.” 

“I should have Interfered,” said Harry, 
promptly. 

“You would have been right in doing so. It 
appears, then, that he w^as interested to the amount 
of two thousand dollars in getting you out of the 
way.” 

“Yes, sir,” said our hero; “but there Is one thing 
I can’t understand’.’ 

“What Is It?” 

“He must have known that I would come back 
from the voyage, and that I should learn whether 
he had drawn the money. It would not be too late 
then to expose him.” 

“That Is true,” said the young man, thought- 
fully. 

“Perhaps,” he said, after a little thought, fixing 
his eyes seriously upon Harry, “he does not expect 
you to come back at all.” 

“What do you mean, Mr. Weldon?” 

“I mean this ; he has already shown himself capa- 
ble of one crime — he may be capable of another. 
Evidently he has some secret understanding with 
the captain, and he may have given him secret in- 
structions, of which we are not aware.” 

“You don’t think he would take my life?” said 
Harry, his brown cheek turning a little pale at the 
thought. 


SINK OR SWIM 199 

“I hope not. He might, however, leave you by 
design on some lonely island In the sea. At any 
rate. It will be necessary to be on your guard. I 
am very glad you have told me what you have 
found out. I will also be on the lookout, and If I 
find any danger menacing you I will let you know.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Weldon,” said Harry, grate- 
fully; “I am very glad to have so good a friend.” 

“You may depend on my friendship with confi- 
dence,” said the supercargo, taking the boy’s hand 
kindly. “I feel an Interest In you, and no harm 
shall come to you If I can help It.” 

The suggestion of Mr. Weldon that possibly 
Squire Turner did not expect him to return was a 
startling one to our hero. He had lamented his 
necessary absence for a year or more from home, 
and oftentimes pictured to himself with pain the 
grief of his mother when she learned of his mys- 
terious disappearance. He was afraid that she 
would suffer from narrow means while he was 
away. Still he knew that she could raise money on 
the house by a further mortgage, enough probably 
to carry her through two years, even If she did not 
earn anything during this period. It would be a 
great pity to have her little property so sacrificed; 
but Harry was hopeful, and meant when he re- 
turned to make up to her for her losses. He would 
be home In eighteen months, as he judged from 
inquiries made of the sailors; at any rate in less 


200 SINK OR SWIM 

than two years, and this thought had sustained him 
in his temporary separation. But now for the first 
time the thought came to him that he might be pre- 
vented from returning at all. Suppose it should 
prove true, as the supercargo suggested, that Cap- 
tain Brandon should leave him on some lonely 
island in the ocean, there to starve, or to drag out 
a solitary and wretched existence, perhaps for 
years? This was terrible to think of, yet he had 
heard and read of such cases. He resolved not to 
be persuaded to land anywhere, except at the ter- 
mination of the voyage, and thus avoid danger. 

But, as often happens, the danger assumed a 
different shape from what he anticipated. To ex- 
plain the evil which befell him, it is necessary to 
say that Jack Rodman had not forgiven our hero 
for the signal and public manner in which he had 
defeated him in the contest already recorded. He 
cherished a malignant hatred against Harry, and 
longed to do him some harm. He was bound to 
get even with him, so he said to himself. It was 
some time before an opportunity presented itself. 
But at length one came. 

Harry was leaning over the side one evening, 
thinking over his position, when Jack Rodman’s 
attention was drawn to him. He looked around 
him hurriedly. Nobody was looking. A terrible 
Impulse seized him. He crept stealthily behind 


SINK OR SWIM 201 

Harry, lifted him from his feet, and in an instant 
threw him into the sea. 

‘‘Help !” exclaimed Harry, in loud, clear tones. 

Tom Patch heard, and recognized the voice. In- 
stantly he threw a plank overboard, calling out : 

“Keep up, my lad, and we’ll help you.” 

The captain was just coming out of the cabin. 
Tom ran up to him, and hurriedly announced that 
Harry had fallen overboard. 

“If he’s careless enough to fall overboard, let 
him take care of himself,” said the captain, coolly. 

“Won’t you put out a boat?” asked Tom, 
anxiously. 

The only answer was an oath, and a savage com- 
mand to go about his business. 

All the while valuable time was being lost. 
Harry was by this time some distance astern. He 
had succeeded in reaching the plank, and was cling- 
ing to it. 

“Poor lad!” said Tom Patch, brushing a tear 
from his eyes with his large and horny hand, and 
he breathed an anathema against the captain, which 
I cannot record. “He’s bound for Davy Jones’s 
locker, as sure as my name’s Tom.” 

There seemed little chance for our hero. With 
nothing but a plank between him and immediate 
destruction, along in the vast ocean, without a par- 
ticle of food or drink to sustain him, the question 
of “sink or swim” seemed little in doubt. 


20Z 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER XXV 

THE CAPTAIN AND THE SUPERCARGO 

When Harry was so treacherously thrown over- 
board by Jack Rodman, the supercargo was not on 
deck. He had been attacked by a violent headache, 
which had caused him to go below and “turn in,” 
in the hope of obtaining a little sleep. In this he at 
length succeeded, and when Harry’s life was placed 
in jeopardy he was fast asleep. He did not wake 
up for an hour or more. Feeling refreshed he got 
up and went on deck. He looked round as usual 
for Harry, but did not see him. His attention, 
however, was drawn to Tom Patch, who, good, 
honest fellow, every now and then raised his rough 
hand to his eyes to brush away a tear. 

“What’s the matter, Tom?” asked the super- 
cargo, for he had observed the rough sailor’s par- 
tiality for Harry, and this had inclined him favor- 
ably towards him. 

“Is it you, Mr. Weldon?” said Tom, in a sub- 
dued tone. “I wish you’d been on deck an hour 
ago.” 


SINK OR SWIM 


203 


“Why?” 

“Mayhaps you could nave saved the poor lad.” 

“Saved whom?” asked the supercargo, suspect- 
ing at once that some harm had befallen Harry, 
but not dreaming of the extent of his misfortune. 

“He fell overboard, or was thrown over, I can’t 
justly say which.” 

“Whom do you mean?” 

“Harry Raymond.” 

“Good heavens ! How long since?” 

“An hour and a half, maybe.” 

“And was nothing done to save him?” 

“I threw a plank when I heard him cry for 
help.” 

“And where was the captain when this hap- 
pened?” asked Weldon, suspiciously. 

“In his cabin. I went down to tell him, and ask 
to have a boat lowered to save the poor lad ; but he 
swore that if he was careless enough to fall over- 
board he must save himself.” 

The supercargo was not an excitable man, but 
rather mild and pacific in his disposition ; but when 
he heard of the cold-blooded manner in which Cap- 
tain Brandon had refused help to the drowning 
boy, he was filled with a just indignation, which he 
was unable to conceal. 

“Where is Captain Brandon?” he asked, in a 
quick, stern voice, so unusual to him that Tom 
looked up in surprise. 


204 SINK OR SWIM 

“In his cabin, Mr. Weldon. He gave orders 
that he should not be disturbed.” 

“That, for his orders !” returned the supercargo, 
snapping his fingers contemptuously. “He shall be 
disturbed, and he shall answer to me for his atro- 
cious inhumanity!” And Mr. Weldon hurried to 
the rear of the companion-way. 

“I didn’t think he had so much spirit,” said Tom, 
as he followed with his glance the retreating form 
of the supercargo, “he’s so mlld-llke, commonly. 
But I’m glad the poor lad’s got some one that’ll 
dare to speak up for him. I’d do It, but the cap- 
tain’d knock me down with a marlln-spike, and put 
me In Irons, likely. If I did.” 

The captain’s attention was drawn to a quick, 
Imperative knock at the door of the cabin. 

“Go away!” he growled. “I do not wish to be 
disturbed.” 

The only answer was a succession of knocks still 
louder and more Imperative. 

“I’ll fix him for his Insolence, whoever he Is,” 
the captain muttered, angrily, and, walking to the 
cabin door, opened It himself. 

“What do you mean, Mr. Weldon?” he de- 
manded, In surprise and anger. 

The young man’s face was white with anger, and 
there was a suppressed fury In his tone, as he re- 
plied, “I come here. Captain Brandon, to demand 
why you have sacrificed a human life, by refusing 


SINK OR SWIM 205 

to make any effort to save the boy Harry Ray- 
mond.” 

“I am not responsible to you for what I do or 
decline to do, Mr. Weldon,” said Brandon, fiercely. 
“It is none of your business.” 

“It is my business. Captain Brandon, and the 
business of every man on board who has a spark of 
humanity in his bosom.” 

“You are insolent, sir.” 

“Is this a time to choose words? You have 
suffered that poor boy to perish when you might 
have saved him, and in the eyes of Heaven you are 
responsible for his murder.” 

“Murder!” 

Hartley Brandon was not a brave man. He was 
disposed to bully and threaten, when he thought he 
could do it with safety; but when he was opposed 
in an intrepid and fearless manner, his tone became 
milder and lowered his pretensions. So, in the 
present case, it startled him to be told that, in fail- 
ing to take means for the rescue of Harry, he had 
been accessory to a murder, and he began to have 
undefined apprehensions of the possible conse- 
quences of his neglect. He thought it best to ex- 
culpate himself. 

“Walk in, Mr. Weldon, and sit down,” he said. 
“We will talk this matter over. You don’t under- 
stand all the circumstances.” 

“I hope I do not, Captain Brandon,” said the 


2o6 sink or swim 

young man, gravely. “I do not wish to think so ill 
of you as I fear I must.” 

“The boy carelessly fell overboard,” commenced 
the captain. 

“Are you sure he fell?” asked the supercargo, 
significantly. 

“Of course he fell. How else could it be? I 
don’t understand you.” 

“It seems strange that he should be so careless.” 

“That’s the way of it. He didn’t deserve to be 
helped. Can I be expected to stop my ship every 
time a careless boy takes a notion to fall over- 
board ?” 

“When human life is in jeopardy. Captain Bran- 
don, our duty is to save it if we can. I don’t envy 
the man who at such a time can stop to Inquire 
whether the danger is the result of carelessness or 
not.” 

The supercargo spoke sternly, and the captain 
felt arraigned for his action, and this irritated him. 

“I have to think of my ship,” he said. 

“In what way would it have Injured the ship. If 
you had lowered the boat for Harry?” 

“I cannot afford to lose time.” 

“Have you thought how much time the poor boy 
has lost, whose life Is probably a sacrifice to your 
criminal negligence? A life which. In all proba- 
bility, would have been prolonged to seventy, hat» 
been cut short at fifteen. Fifty-five years lost to 


SINK OR SWIM 207 

save one hour In the voyage of the Sea Eagle!’* 
said Weldon, scornfully. 

“I am not responsible to you, Mr. Weldon,” 
said Brandon, with irritation. “I acted as I thought 
for the best. I am the captain of this ship, not 
you.” 

“I am aware of that. Captain Brandon. But 
you could not expect me to stand by and see a 
human life sacrificed without uttering my earnest 
protest. Any life w’ould be worth saving — the life 
of this bright, manly boy more than most. His 
death lies at your door.” 

“You have said as much before,” said the cap- 
tain, sulkily. “If you have no more to say, I will 
trouble you to leave me to myself.” 

“I have something more to say,” said the super- 
cargo, regarding the captain fixedly. “I am aware 
of the manner in which this boy was entrapped on 
board your vessel. What motive you had in carry- 
ing him away from home and friends I do not 
know. You perhaps know, also,” the young man 
continued, “whether in leaving him to his sad fate 
you are not influenced by a similar motive.” 

“What do you mean, Mr. Weldon?” demanded 
the captain, startled by the words and tone of the 
other. 

“I mean this: that in this whole affair there is 
something which I do not understand — something 
that has excited my suspicions. I shall feel it my 


208 SINK OR SWIM 

duty to report all that I know of it to the authori- 
ties at the first opportunity.” 

Brandon turned pale. He began to see that he 
had made a mistake, and exposed himself to grave 
suspicions. It would have been better, as he now 
perceived, to make a show of rescuing our hero. It 
would have been easy to secure failure by unneces- 
sary delay. The threat of a legal investigation 
alarmed him, and he prepared to make an argu- 
ment by which he might dispel, if possible, the im- 
pression which had been created in the mind of the 
supercargo. But Mr. Weldon rose, and left the 
cabin hastily. The interview had been a most un- 
satisfactory one, and had only convinced him of 
what he feared — that the captain was, in reality, 
either glad to be rid of our hero, even by such 
means, or else indifferent to his fate. He was in- 
clined to believe in the former theory. What he 
had said of laying the matter before the authorities, 
he was fully decided upon. Now the vehemence of 
his indignation gave place to a feeling of the deep- 
est and most poignant sorrow for the loss of the 
boy who had unconsciously become very dear to 
him. He thought of his frank, manly bearing, of 
his pleasant face, of his courtesy and politeness, and 
the warm and generous heart of which he had 
shown himself to be possessed, and then of the ter- 
rible fate which had so unexpectedly overtaken 
him, and the tears rose unbidden to his eyes. By 


SINK OR SWIM 209 

this time, doubtless, Harry was beyond human suc- 
cor, and all that he could do was to drop a tear to 
his memory. He went up to Tom Patch, towards 
whom the sailor’s evident grief for our hero’s fate 
had warmed his heart, and wrung his hand heartily. 

“He was a noble boy, and his life has been 
shamefully sacrificed, Tom,” he said; “but If I 
live, the man who has done this deed shall be 
punished.” 

“Ay, ay, sir,” said Tom, whose voice was gruff 
with emotion ; “I hope you’ll stick to that. He was 
a brave lad, and the captain deserves to be pitched 
after him.” 

Mr. Weldon paced the deck till far Into the 
night. Captain Brandon shut himself up In his 
cabin, and did not show himself till morning. He 
had made various advances towards the supercargo, 
whom he evidently desired to conciliate, from pru- 
dential Intentions ; but the young man met him with 
a freezing formality, which showed him that all 
hopes In that direction were futile. 

So the Sea Eagle sped on Its way, till at length 
it arrived at its destined port. 


210 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER XXVI 

ADRIFT 

The attack made upon our hero was so sudden 
and so rapidly executed, that there was no oppor- 
tunity for resistance. Before he well knew what 
had happened to him he found himself struggling 
in the ocean. Instinct led him to strike out. In 
response to his cry the plank was thrown over- 
board, as we know. He saw it and swam towards 
it. Fortunately he was an expert swimmer, and 
had no difficulty in reaching it. 

He got upon the plank and supported himself by 
it. Then, for the first time, he was able to look 
towards the Sea Eagle. It was speeding away 
from him, not rapidly, for there was a light wind, 
but surely. 

“Surely they will lower a boat for me,” thought 
our hero, anxiously. 

He had heard Tom Patch’s shout of encourage- 
ment, and he knew Tom would not let him perish, 
if he could help it. He did not suspect that the 
captain would be inhuman enough to refuse assist- 


SINK OR SWIM 21 1 

ance. So he gazed anxiously, but still hopefully, 
at the receding ship, wondering why there was such 
a delay in getting out the boat. But when five 
minutes had elapsed, and, straining his eyes in the 
uncertain light, he could see no preparations going 
forward for a rescue, the thought flashed upon him 
in all its horror that he was to be left to his fate. 
And what a fate ! Thousands of miles from home, 
adrift on the vast ocean, with only a plank between 
him and destruction. Could anything be more 
fearful? 

At present the ocean was comparatively calm. 
There was little breeze, and so no high waves were 
excited. He could float without any great difficulty 
in clinging to the plank. But this could not be 
expected to last. To-morrow the waves might 
sweep him from his sole refuge, and to certain 
destruction. Besides, he had neither food nor 
drink. Even were he able to cling to the plank, 
hunger and thirst would soon make his condition 
insupportable. There was still another considera- 
tion. It would not do for him to sleep. Should he 
lose consciousness, his hold of the plank would, of 
course, relax, and he would be drawned. 

All these thoughts crowded upon our young 
hero, and, hero though we call him, a feeling of 
bitter despair came to him. Was this to be the end 
of all his glowing hopes and bright anticipations 
of future prosperity? Was he never to see his 


212 


SINK OR SWIM 

mother and his little sister Katy again? He felt 
at this terrible moment how he loved them both, 
and, anxious as he was for himself, with death star- 
ing him in the face, he could not help thinking how 
his death would affect these dear ones, and anxious- 
ly considered how they would be able to get along 
without him. When the property was gone, how 
would his mother get along? 

“Oh, if I could but live for mother and Katy!” 
thought the poor boy. “I would work for them 
without a murmur. But it is horrible to die in the 
wild ocean so far away from home.” 

He was not troubled by drowsiness, for in the 
tumult of his feelings he could not have composed 
himself to sleep under any circumstances. His 
mind was preternaturally active. Now he thought 
of his mother, now of his school-mates, and his 
happy school-days at the Vernon High School, of 
the many good times he had enjoyed hunting for 
nuts, or picking berries, or playing ball with the 
boys. Then he thought of Squire Turner, and won- 
dered how he would feel when he heard of his 
death. Would he be glad that there was no more 
chance of his being exposed as the incendiary of his 
own building? Harry hardly knew what to think. 
It never occurred to him to suspect that Squire Tur- 
ner was responsible for his abduction and for his 
present condition. 

So the night wore slowly away. When the first 


SINK OR SWIM 213 

gray streaks of dawn broke upon the ocean, the Sea 
Eagle was more than fifty miles away. Harry was 
still wakeful. His intense mental action had kept 
sleep at a distance. 

As soon as the light had increased a little he 
began to look about anxiously in every direction. 
There was one chance of life, and he clung to that. 
He might be seen from some approaching vessel 
and picked up. This chance was small enough. 
The avenues of the ocean are so many and so 
broad, that no ship can be depended upon to keep 
the course of another. What chance was there, in 
the brief time Harry could hope to hold out, that 
any vessel would come near enough for him to be 
seen and rescued ? 

But it is said that drowning men will cling to a 
straw, and Harry was in immediate danger of 
drowning. His thoughts were fixed in all their 
intensity upon the remote contingency of a vessePs 
passing. He almost forgot that he was hungry. 
But, as the morning advanced, the craving for food 
made itself unpleasantly felt. There was a gnaw- 
ing at his stomach (for he had eaten but lightly 
the evening before), which there was no chance of 
appeasing. Harry knew well that this feeling 
would grow stronger and stronger, until it became 
so agonizing as to make life a burden. But there 
was always one relief, though a desperate one. He 
could release his hold of the plank, and sink down 


214 SINK OR SWIM 

into the deep waves, which, merciless as they were, 
were more merciful than hunger and thirst, for 
while the first brings protracted agony, the last 
affords a speedy relief for all trouble. 

After a while, thirst as well as hunger began to 
torment him. The salt meat, which affords the 
staple of a sailor’s diet, induces thirst more rapidly 
than ordinary food. So by noon his throat was 
parched with thirst. He felt the tantalizing char- 
acter of his situation; “Water, water everywhere, 
but not a drop to drink.” He was half tempted to 
taste of the water in which he was immersed; but 
he knew that, so far from affording relief, it would 
only entail additional suffering, and, strong though 
the temptation was, he had the prudence and self- 
denial to forbear. 

Then, besides, partly owing to his sleeplessness, 
his head began to throb with pain, and, altogether, 
the poor boy’s situation was becoming desperate. 
It seemed as if his career was likely to terminate 
very speedily. 

While our hero is in this precarious condition, 
we must, for a brief time, change the scene. 

Sailing steadily towards him, though he knew it 
not, was the Australian packet-ship Rubicon, bound 
from Liverpool to Melbourne. 

It was a pleasant day, and most of the passen- 
gers were on deck, enjoying the calm weather. 
Some had been seasick; but even those who were 


SINK OR SWIM 215 

most Inclined to be disturbed by this most disagree- 
able of maladies, could find no good cause for keep- 
ing below on so pleasant a day. The sea was tran- 
quil, the movement of the vessel calm and steady, 
and as such days are not often to be reckoned upon, 
the passengers determined to make the most of this. 

Among the passengers were David I.indsay, a 
gentleman of middle age, and his daughter, Maud, 
a bright, handsome girl of thirteen. Mr. Lindsay 
was a London merchant, who, partly for the beneht 
of his health, which had been affected by too great 
devotion to business, partly because he had business 
interests In Australia, had decided to go on to Mel- 
bourne on a visit. He had not at first proposed to 
take his daughter, considering her too young; but 
she was an only child, and, as her mother was dead, 
had been treated by her father more as a companion 
than is usual with girls of her age. So, when her 
father mentioned his plan, Maud at once said confi- 
dently, “Oh, that will be charming, papa ! How 
much I shall enjoy It!” 

“How much you will enjoy it,” repeated her 
father. “Well, Maud, I can’t say that your re- 
mark is particularly complimentary to me.” 

“Why not?” asked Maud, innocently. 

“I tell you that I am going to Australia — a jour- 
ney likely to keep me away from home a year at 
least, and you are so ready to part with me that you 
say at once that it Is charming.” 


2i6 sink or swim 

“But, papa,” said Maud, “we shall not be sepa- 
rated at all.” 

“How do you make that out?” 

“0/ course you are going to take me with you !” 
and Maud put a strong emphasis on the first two 
words. 

“You seem to be pretty confident, considering 
that such an idea never entered my head,” said the 
father. 

“What, papa ! You don’t mean to say that you 
thought of leaving me here in England?” 

“Certainly, my child.” 

“But you know, papa, I can’t stay away from 
you so long. I’m sure you’re going to take me with 
you.” And she put her arms coaxingly around his 
neck. 

“But what is to become of your education in the 
meantime, Maud?” 

“Oh, that can wait.” 

“You dispose of that difficulty very easily,” said 
her father, amused. 

“Why, you see, papa, I am not so terribly old 
I’ve got plenty of time before me, so that I can 
spare a year well enough. Besides, I shall be learn- 
ing something from observation. My governess 
says that there are two great sources of Instruction : 
one of these Is the study of books ; and the other, 
and perhaps the more valuable of the two. Is the 
right use of the faculty of observation.” 

In saying this she imitated the prim, methodical 


SINK OR SWIM 217 

tone of her governess, an elderly spinster, at whose 
little peculiarities Mr. Lindsay had often been 
secretly amused. 

He laughed outright at the excellent imitation 
given of Miss Pendleton’s manner, and Maud saw 
that her suit was half won. 

“You ought to be a lawyer, Maud,” he said, 
“you are so good at special pleading.” 

“That means that I am going, I suppose, papa?” 
said Maud, promptly. 

“Not so fast. I have got to think it over. I 
must ask Miss Pendleton what she thinks of it.” 

“If you do, papa, will you be kind enough to 
repeat that remark I made about the two sources 
of knowledge?” 

“No, Maud, I don’t think I shall venture upon 
such a thing. However, I will take your request 
into consideration.” 

“Into a favorable consideration, papa.” 

“As to that, I cannot promise.” 

Maud, however, felt tolerably assured that she 
had gained her point, as Indeed she had. Mr. 
Lindsay had been dreading his Australian trip 
mainly because It would separate him from his 
daughter. Now he began to look forward to It 
with Interest and pleasure. Strange to say, the 
thought of taking his daughter had never before 
occurred to him. Yet there seemed no good reason 
for not doing It. She was young, and there was 
plenty of time to obtain an education, as she had 


2i8 sink or swim 

herself said. Besides, the remark of her governess 
had considerable truth in it. Observation would be 
a valuable source of information. 

He consulted Miss Pendleton, offering her a 
year’s vacation on half salary, and found her very 
ready to accept it. It was many years that she had 
been teaching in different families, and the prospect 
of a year’s respite, with such pecuniary induce- 
ments, as would relieve her from loss or anxiety, 
was a pleasant one. It would enable her to visit 
the family of a married sister, and renew the famil- 
iar intercourse which her mode of life for many 
years had rendered impracticable. 

So it happened that when the packet Rubicon 
sailed, in the list of passengers were Mr. David 
Lindsay and daughter. 

Mr. Lindsay was seasick a fortnight, Maud 
scarcely at all. The dismal hours in which he was 
a victim to this disagreeable complaint were made 
much less intolerable by the services and bright, 
cheerful companionship of his daughter, so that the 
merchant more than once felt thankful that he had 
yielded to her entreaties, and made her the com- 
panion of his trip. 

Maud and her father were standing by the side 
of the vessel, looking out at the broad waste of 
waters, without any definite object in view. Sud- 
denly Maud exclaimed, “Papa, look there, and tell 
me what you see !” 

She pointed to the east. He shook his head. 


SINK OR SWIM 219 

“Your eyes are better than mine, Maud,” he said. 
“I can see nothing.” 

“Papa,” she said, energetically, “I am sure I can 
see a boy in the water supported by a plank.” 

The captain was on deck with his spy-glass. Mr. 
Lindsay went up to him and told him what Maud 
had said. He turned his glass in the direction 
indicated. 

“The young lady is right,” he said. “It is a boy 
adrift upon a plank.” 


22D 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER XXVII 

NEW FRIENDS 

“A BOY adrift!” repeated Mr. Lindsay. “Hov/ 
could he get into such a situation?” 

“There may have been a wreck,” said the cap- 
tain; “though I can see no other indications of it,” 
as through his glass he scanned the sea in the neigh- 
borhood of Harry. 

“You’ll go after him, won’t you. Captain Scott?” 
asked Maud, anxiously. 

“Certainly, my dear young lady; I will save him 
if I can.” 

“It must be so terrible to be out in the sea with 
nothing but a plank to hold on to,” said Maud, 
sympathetically. “I hope he’ll hold on till we get 
there.” 

“He lies nearly in our course. In twenty minutes 
we shall reach him.” 

Meanwhile Harry, scanning the sea anxiously, 
had caught sight of the Rubicon. A wild thrill of 
hope stirred his heart. Here, at last, was a chance 
of life. But would they see him? That was the 


SINK OR SWIM 22 r 

momentous question. Had he anything by which 
he might attract attention ? 

He felt in his pocket, and drew out his handker- 
chief. Had it been dry, he could have waved it 
aloft. But it was dripping wet, and there was no 
wave to it. His spirits began to sink. But there 
was one encouragement: the packet was heading 
for him. Though he might not be seen now, he 
would perhaps be able to attract attention when the 
ship drew near. 

Fifteen minutes passed in the most anxious sus- 
pense. How much depended on the next quarter of 
an hour ! In that time it would be decided whether 
he should live or die. Already he could discern the 
figures of the passengers. Was it a delusion? No, 
a little girl was waving her handkerchief to him. 
He was seen — he would be rescued ! He became so 
weak, in the tumult of his sudden joy, that he re- 
leased his hold of the plank which had been his 
safeguard, and, as it proved, his deliverance. But 
he recovered from his weakness, and with renewed 
energy clung to the plank. 

Nearer and nearer came the Rubicon. He saw 
preparations for lowering a boat. The boat was in 
the water, and four sturdy sailors impelled it to- 
wards him with vigorous strokes. Five minutes 
later he was helped into the boat, and a little later 
still he clambered on board the Rubicon — a silent 


222 


SINK OR SWIM 

prayer of thanksgiving in his heart to the Almighty 
Father for his providential rescue. 

“Well, my lad,” said Captain Scott, advancing 
towards him, “you’ve had a pretty narrow es- 
cape. We don’t generally stop here to take in 
passengers.” 

“Captain,” said Harry, earnestly, “I thank you 
for saving my life. I couldn’t have held out much 
longer.” 

“No, I should think not. How came you in such 
a pickle ? But I won’t ask you to tell the story now. 
You’re wet, and I suppose hungry.” 

Our hero admitted that he was both hungry and 
thirsty, having been without food or drink for 
nearly twenty-four hours. 

Luckily there was a boy on board, of about 
Harry’s size. Our hero was supplied with a suit 
of his clothes, which he found considerably more 
comfortable than the one he had on, which, having 
been subjected to the action of the sea-water for 
twenty hours, was about as thoroughly drenched as 
it was possible for clothes to be. After being pro- 
vided with dry clothing, Harry’s other wants were 
attended to. A bowl of hot coffee and a plentiful 
supply of hearty food made him feel very much 
more at his ease. 

He was now called upon for his story. This he 
told frankly and without reservation to the captain 
and the passengers who had gathered about him. 


SINK OR SWIM 223 

His manner was so modest, manly and self-pos- 
sessed, that no one for a moment questioned the 
truth of what he said, and all were prepossessed at 
once in his favor. 

“Well, youngster,” said Captain Scott, “it ap- 
pears that you’ve had rather a rough experience. 
I’ll try to treat you a little better than did Captain 
Brandon. We sea-captains are not all black sheep. 
There are some of us, I hope, that have common 
humanity.” 

Captain Scott was a bluff, hearty sailor, with a 
large heart, full of kindly impulses. In times of 
danger he was rough and dictatorial, as was per- 
haps necessary, but at other times he followed the 
dictates of a kind heart and generous nature, treat- 
ing the sailors under his command so well that no 
one would leave him unless obliged to do so. 

Among those who listened with the greatest in- 
terest to Harry’s story was Maud Lindsay. When 
it was over she called her father aside. 

“Papa,” she said, “I have a favor to ask.” 

“Well, puss?” 

“I want you to be kind to this boy, Harry Ray- 
mond.” 

“How do you want me to be kind to him ?” 

“I want you to pay his passage to Melbourne, 
and help him after he gets there.” 

“Whew, Maud I You seem to have taken a sud- 
den interest In the young man. I suppose you will 


224 SINK OR SWIM 

be wanting to marry him when we get to Mel- 
bourne.” 

“Nonsense, papa !” said Maud, blushing. 

“Tell me, then, why I should spend so much 
money on a stranger.” 

“You know youVe got plenty of money, papa, 
and he has been very unfortunate. He’s such a 
nice-looking boy, too.” 

“I suppose if he were only unfortunate, and not 
nice-looking — if he had red hair, and a face mark- 
ed with the small-pox — you would not be so anxious 
to have me help him along?” 

“No, I don’t suppose I should feel quite so much 
interest in him,” Maud admitted. “Do you like 
homely persons as well as handsome ones, papa ?” 

“Why, that is rather a delicate question to ask. 
All I can say is, that I love you just as much as if 
you were good-looking.” 

“That’s as much as to say I am not,” returned 
Maud. 

“I didn’t say so.” 

“But you meant so. However, everybody says I 
look like you; so. If I am homely, you are also.” 

“You’ve got me there, Maud,” said Mr. Lind- 
say, laughing. “After this I shall never dare to 
question your good looks.” 

“You’ll do as I want you to, then, papa?” said 
Maud, laying her hand with a coaxing gesture on 
her father’s arm. 


SINK OR SWIM 225 

“I suppose I shall have to,” said her father, 
smiling. 

“That’s a good papa. I’ll kiss you now.” 

“I will submit to the infliction with as good a 
grace as possible,” said Mr. Lindsay, with a comic 
look of resignation. 

It will be perceived that the relations between 
Mr. Lindsay and his daughter were more cordial 
and affectionate than is sometimes the case. He 
had a warm, kindly nature, and the death of his 
wife had led him to center all his love and all his 
hopes upon his daughter, who, we must acknowl- 
edge, was attractive and lovable enough to justify 
any father’s love and pride. Warm-hearted and 
impulsive, she won the affection of all who sur- 
rounded her, and had even made a considerable im- 
pression upon the not very susceptible heart of her 
strait-laced and prim governess. Miss Pendleton. 

Though he had made a playful opposition to the 
request of his daughter, Mr. Lindsay was from the 
first favorably disposed towards granting it. He, 
too, had been pleased with the frank, manly bear- 
ing of Harry Raymond, and had been interested in 
the history of his life. He felt impelled to help 
him, as he could well afford to do, and to make up 
to him for the frowning of fortune by securing to 
him a more prosperous future. 

Accordingly he sought Captain Scott immedi- 
ately after his Interview with Maud. 


226 SINK OR SWIM 

“I want to speak to you about this boy you have 
picked up, Captain Scott,” he commenced. 

“I was just thinking about him myself. If I had 
anything for him to do, I would let him work his 
passage. As it is, I suppose I shall have to give It 
to him. But that won’t set him right entirely. 
He’ll land at Melbourne without a penny, with no 
means of reaching home.” 

“I’ll relieve you from all anxiety on that point, 
captain. I’ve taken a fancy to the boy. You may 
charge me the amount of his passage-money, and 
I’ll take care of him when we get to Melbourne.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Lindsay; but If you’ll do the 
last. I’ll give him a free passage. I like the young- 
ster myself, and am willing to do that much for 
him.” 

“Then suppose we call him and let him know 
what we propose to do? No doubt he Is feeling 
somewhat anxious about his future.” 

Harry, being summoned, presented himself. He 
had meanwhile learned the destination of the Rubi- 
con, and had hardly made up his mind how to feel 
about It. With a boy’s love of adventure and 
strange lands, he was fascinated by the thought of 
seeing Australia, of which he had heard so much. 
Still he could not help reflecting that he would land 
penniless, separated by half the earth’s circumfer- 
ence from his home and mother and sister that he 
loved. Could he make a living In this strange land, 


SINK OR SWIM 227 

of which he knew nothing, and could he ever earn 
money enough in addition to pay for his homeward 
passage ? These were questions which it was very 
easy to ask, but not quite so easy to answer. Still, 
In spite of his doubts on this point, his situation was 
so much better than it had been, and he was sc 
thankful for his deliverance from a terrible death, 
that he was disposed to regard the future hope- 
fully. 

“Well, youngster,” said the captain, as our hero 
made his appearance, “I suppose you are ready to 
settle for your passage.” 

Harry smiled. 

“I should like to,” he said, “but I haven’t got a 
cent.” 

“Then I don’t see but I shall have to throw you 
overboard again, eh, Mr. Lindsay?” 

“Can’t I work my passage?” suggested our hero. 

“No, we are full-handed. However, as you can’t 
pay, I’ve about made up my mind to give you your 
passage free.” 

“You are very kind. Captain Scott,” said Harry. 

“Quite welcome, my lad. Here’s a gentleman 
who will do more for you than I can.” 

“I suppose you have felt some anxiety about how 
you will get along when you arrive at Melbourne?” 
said Mr. Lindsay. 

Harry admitted his anxiety. 

“You may lay aside all apprehensions, then. I 


228 SINK OR SWIM 

will take care that you suffer for nothing, and will 
see what I can do to put you in a way of earning 
your living.” 

“You are kinder to me than I deserve,” said our 
hero, surprised and grateful. 

“I do this at my daughter’s request,” said Mr. 
Lindsay. “She was the first to see you from the 
deck, and now she has asked me to interest myself 
in your favor.” 

Harry heard this with pleasure. He had noticed 
Maud Lindsay, and had been quite charmed by 
her bright, attractive face, and it was pleasant to 
him to learn that she felt an Interest In him. He 
expressed his gratitude to her. 

“Come with me,” said Mr. Lindsay, “and you 
shall thank her In person.” 

Harry accompanied his new friend with a degree 
of bashfulness, for he was not much accustomed to 
young ladles’ society. But he soon found himself 
at ease with Maud. She had numberless questions 
to ask, which he took pleasure In answering. Then 
he, too, asked questions about London, where she 
had hitherto lived. So they got on excellently to- 
gether, and for the remainder of the voyage were 
almost Inseparable. But upon the details of their 
growing friendship, however Interesting to the par- 
ties themselves, I have no room to speak. Sea-life 
is monotonous, and it may be as well passed over 
briefly. Enough to say that the weeks sped on, 


SINK OR SWIM 22a 

and at length one pleasant morning’^ the Rubicon 
ascended the Yarra Yarra River, and the impatient 
voyagers gazed with eager interest at the principal 
city in Australia, which, with its handsome build- 
ings and wide, straight streets, now lay stretched 
out before them. 


230 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER XXVIII 

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF MELBOURNE 

It will readily be believed that our hero sur- 
veyed with eager Interest the city which lay before 
him. Melbourne was not so large and populous as 
at present, but it presented an unusually lively and 
animated appearance. It was In the height of the 
gold excitement, and multitudes had flocked thither 
from all parts of the world, so that representatives 
of every nationality might be found In the streets 
of Australia’s capital. But we are anticipating a 
little. 

Mr. Lindsay, Maud and Harry stood on the 
deck of the vessel, waiting for the ship to be 
secured, that they might go on shore. Mr. Lind- 
say’s mind was quite at ease, for he had money, and 
money would provide him with all the comforts 
and luxuries which he could desire. But with 
Harry It was different. He realized the helpless- 
ness of the situation, and, despite his pluck, it made 
him feel a little uneasy. He knew that Mr. Lind- 


SINK OR SWIM 231 

say had an Interest in him, but he did not like to 
presume upon that Interest. 

“Well, my boy,” said Mr. Lindsay, “are you 
ready to go on shore?” 

Harry hesitated. 

“I should like to go,” he said. 

“I have just ordered my trunks brought on 
deck,” said the merchant. “In hall an hour I think 
we may be on shore.” 

“Then I will bid you good-by, sir,” said Harry. 

“Good-by! What for?” 

“Yes, Harry, what for?” echoed Maud. 

“Because we are going to part.” 

“No, we are not. You are going with us.” 

“But,” said Harry, hesitating, “I could not 
afford to stop where you do.” 

“Don’t trouble yourself about that,” said Mr. 
Lindsay, kindly. “I feel an Interest in you, and so 
does Maud.” 

“Of course I do,” said Maud, so decidedly that 
Harry blushed, not being accustomed to hear him- 
self spoken of in such complimentary terms by a 
young lady. 

“Therefore,” proceeded Mr. Lindsay, “I mean 
to take you on shore with me, and I will afterwards 
give you time to form your plans, in which I shall 
give you such assistance as I can.” 

“You are very kind, sir,” said Harry, gratefully. 


232 SINK OR SWIM 

“Then you will go with us, Harry,” said Maud, 
“won’t you?” 

“I shall be very glad to do so,” said Harry. 
“You are very kind to me. Miss Lindsay.” 

“Miss Lindsay!” repeated the young lady. Im- 
patiently. “What makes you call me that?” 

“Isn’t It your name?” asked Harry, smiling. 

“No, It Isn’t. At any rate you are not to call 
me so. Call me Maud.” 

“Well, Maud, I will. If you want me to.” 

“Certainly I do. I wish we could go on shore; 
I am tired of staying here.” 

They had not long to stop, however. They were 
soon on the pier, where a number of carriages were 
waiting to convey passengers to the various hotels. 
Mr. Lindsay had previously Inquired which was 
the best hotel In the city, and gave directions to the 
driver to convey him thither. As I do not wish to 
discriminate In favor of any particular hotel, I 
shall call It by an assumed name, “The Tasmania 
Hotel.” 

It had a handsome appearance, being located on 
Collins Street, which Is the principal business street 
In Melbourne. This street is about one-third wider 
than Broadway, and had, even In the days of which 
I am writing, many handsome shops and Imposing 
buildings. 

“I didn’t know Melbourne was such a nice 
place,” said Maud, looking about with iiatisf action. 


SINK OR SWIM 233 

“Why, they’ve got as nice shops here as they have 
in London.” 

“Yes, Melbourne is quite an enterprising city,” 
said Mr. Lindsay. 

“I like it better than London for one reason,” 
continued Maud. 

“What is that?” 

“It is brighter and more cheerful. In London 
it is almost always foggy.” 

“I should like to deny that, being a true Briton,” 
said Mr. Lindsay; “but I am afraid I must admit 
that London is open to that objection.” 

“I’ll tell you what I am going to do this after- 
noon, papa.” 

“Well, what is it?” 

“I’m going out shopping.” 

“I am afraid I can’t go with you this afternoon, 
Maud. I shall be occupied with business.” 

“There is no need of your going with me, papa.” 

“But I should not be willing to have you go 
alone, Maud,” said her father. 

“I don’t mean to go alone. Harry’ll go with 
me, and protect me, only I don’t think I shall need 
any protection; but it’ll be pleasant to have him 

go*” 

“If he is willing to go, I have no objection.” 

“You’ll come with me, Harry, won’t you?” 
asked Maud. 


234 SINK OR SWIM 

“I shall be very happy to accompany you, 
Miss ” 

Here Maud held up her finger warningly. 

“I mean Maud,” said our hero. 

“Then that’s settled. We’ll have lots of fun.” 

“I am afraid that is not quite the way young 
ladies ought to talk,” said her father. “What 
would your governess say?” 

“Poor, dear old lady! she’d be shocked, I know 
she would. She wanted me to be as prim and 
stupid as herself. But I can’t be, papa. It is not 
in me.” 

“No, I don’t think it Is,” said her father, 
smiling. 

They were assigned pleasant rooms in the hotel ; 
in fact, the best in the house. Mr. Lindsay, though 
not an extravagant man, was always liberal in all 
his arrangements when traveling; and now espec- 
ially, when he had his daughter with him, he was 
resolved to spare no expense to secure such com- 
forts as could be procured. Harry also was pro- 
vided with a pleasant apartment on the same floor. 
Mr. Lindsay might easily have secured for him a 
cheaper one on an upper floor; but he was appar- 
ently resolved to treat Harry as if he were a mem- 
ber of his own family. 

They ordered an early dinner, being tired of 
ship fare, and anxious for the fresher vegetables 
and meat which could be obtained on shore. Ac- 


SINK OR SWIM 235 

cording to the English system, they took their meal 
privately in Mr. Lindsay’s apartment. It proved 
to be well cooked, and of good quality, and each of 
the three did full justice to it. 

When the meal was over, Mr. Lindsay said: 

“I must go out now and make a business call, 
leaving you young people to your own devices.” 

“We’ll go out shopping and sight-seeing, papa, 
as I told you.” 

“Don’t go too far, or you might get lost.” 

“Never fear that. But there’s one thing you 
mustn’t forget, papa.” 

“What is that?” 

“What does a young lady always want when she 
goes out shopping?” 

“Some money?” 

“You’ve guessed right the first time.” 

“You won’t want much. What do you wish to 
buy?” 

“I can’t tell, papa, till I see what they have got 
to sell.” 

“Here, then,” said Mr. Lindsay, placing two 
gold sovereigns in his daughter’s hand. “Mind you 
don’t spend it foolishly.” 

“Did you ever know me to spend money fool- 
ishly, papa ?” 

“Well, perhaps I had better not express myself 
on that point. Good-by for a few hours.” 

Mr. Lindsay went out, and Maud and Harry 


236 SINK OR SWIM 

soon followed. They walked along Collins Street, 
looking about them with eager interest. They met 
German, English, French, Chinese in fact, types 
of nearly all nationalities. This seemed more 
strange to Maud than to Harry, for in New York 
the latter had been accustomed to see a mingling 
scarcely less great of heterogeneous elements. But 
in London, or, at any rate, in those parts with 
which Maud was familiar, there was far less 
diversity. 

“I like this,” said Maud, with satisfaction. 
“Everything looks so new and strange. It’s ever 
so much better fun than being in London. Besides, 
if I were in London, instead of having you to walk 
about with me, I should have a stiff old governess 
calling out every moment, ‘You should be more 
particular about your deportment. Miss Maud.’ 
Now I know you won’t say anything about my 
deportment.” 

“No, I think not,” said Harry. “I don’t know 
what a young lady’-i deportment ought to be.” 

“I’m glad of that, for you won’t be turning up 
the whites of your eyes at me in horror at anything 
I say or do. Oh, there’s some ribbon I want ! Do 
you see it in that window? Come in with me, 
Harry.” 

They went in, and Maud made a purchase of 
some ribbon, which she declared to be of a lovely 
shade. 


SINK OR SWIM 237 

Now It must be confessed that Maud sometimes 
allowed her high spirits to carry her too far. She 
was of an excitable, impulsive temperament. Still 
her impulses were generous and kindly, and in spite 
of her faults she was unusually attractive, and It 
was difficult not to be won over by her frank, affec- 
tionate manner. So Harry, who was not much used 
to the society of young ladles, and, as he said, did 
not very well know what deportment was proper 
for them, considered Maud to be very agreeable, 
and felt grateful for her kindness to himself. 

After buying the ribbon, Maud walked on for 
some little distance till she came to a gentleman’s 
furnishing store. 

‘‘I want to go In here, Harry,” she said. 

‘‘They only sell articles for gentlemen in there,” 
said Harry. 

“Never mind,” said Maud. “I know what I 
want. Come in.” 

Entering the shop, Maud took the lead, and, 
advancing to the counter, asked the shopman : 

“Will you show me some of your cravats?” 

“For yourself, miss?” asked the shopman, sur* 
prised. “We don’t keep ladies’ goods.” 

“No, for this young gentleman, my cousin,” she 
added, looking at Harry. 

“But, Maud, you mustn’t buy anything for me,” 
interposed Harry, in a low voice. 


238 SINK OR SWIM 

“Yes, I shall,’’ said Maud. “I don’t like your 
cravat at all. I’m going to buy you a nice one.” | 

Harry continued to remonstrate, but he found | 
that opposition only made Maud more determined. 1 
So he Vv^as obliged to submit, while she purchased | 
for him two handsome neckties. \ 

“There, Harry,” she said, placing them in his 
hand, as they left the shop, “I expect you to put 
one of them on as soon as you get home.” 

“What v/ill your father say, Maud?” asked 
Harry. “Perhaps he won’t like it.” 

“You don’t know papa,” said Maud. “He will 
only laugh. Now will you promise?” 

“I am sure I am much obliged to you. I wish I 
could buy you a present. Perhaps I may be able 
to some time.” 

“There, don’t say anything more about it. What 
a lot of carriages there are in the street ! — almost 
as many as in London.” 

The street, in fact, was lively with a continued 
line of cabs, drays and vehicles of various kinds, 
presenting a spectacle more animated than might 
be expected of a city of the size. But Melbourne, 
though at this time it contained but a hundred 
thousand inhabitants, had a very large foreign 
trade with the principal ports not only of Europe 
but of the United States. This had been largely 
increased by the gold discoveries — those who were 
lucky at the mines being prodigal in their purchases 


SINK OR SWIM 239 

of articles of luxury as well as necessity. Then 
there was a large export trade In wool, hides and 
country produce from the interior, especially in the 
two former, for Australia Is a great grazing 
country. 

“I wonder what building that Is !” said Harry, 
soon afterwards. 

He pointed to a very handsome structure in the 
Italian style, on the corner of Bourke and Eliza- 
beth Streets. It was adorned with sculptures, and 
looked new. In fact, it had just been opened to 
the public. 

“That,” said a gentleman, who overheard him, 
“Is our new postoffice.” 

“That reminds me,” said Harry, “I must write 
home to-night, to let my mother know where I 
am.” 

In fact, Harry did write that same evening, and 
gave the letter to a servant at the hotel to post. 
The latter carelessly lost the letter, and then, being 
afraid of blame, falsely assured Harry that he had 
posted it. So the fates were once more against 
Mrs. Raymond, and the missive which would have 
cheered her heart got swept Into a waste-basket, 
and was consumed with other papers of no value. 


240 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER XXIX 

HARRY FORMS HIS PLANS 

A WEEK slipped away very pleasantly. Mr. 
Lindsay was considerably occupied by business, but 
he seemed satisfied to trust Maud to the compan- 
ionship of Harry. Together they went about the 
city sight-seeing. They visited the several pleasure- 
grounds In the Immediate neighborhood of the city, 
among them the Carlton and FItzroy Gardens. 
Maud freely declared that she had never had so 
good a time In her life. Harry also enjoyed It; but 
every now and then the thought would force Itself 
upon him that he ought to be doing something. At 
present he was penniless, and but for the liberality 
of Mr. Lindsay would have hardly known what to 
do. Besides this, he felt that he ought to be earn- 
ing money to get home with. He could not help 
feeling anxious about his mother and sister. 

So one evening, after they had returned from an 
excursion to the Yan Yean Waterworks, about 
eighteen miles distant from the city, Harry ven- 
tured to ask an interview with Mr. Lindsay. 


SINK OR SWIM 241 

“Maud, you may go out a few minutes,” said 
her father, “while Harry speaks with me.” 

“He won’t mind me. Will you, Harry?” 

“A little,” said our hero. 

“I didn’t know you had any secrets from me,” 
said Maud, reproachfully. 

“The secret is not a very great one,” said Harry. 
“I may tell you afterwards.” 

“Now, Harry,” said Mr. Lindsay, after Maud 
had left the room. 

“I wanted to consult you about my plans, Mr. 
Lindsay,” said Harry. “I think I ought to go to 
work.” 

“Are you discontented?” 

“No, sir; you and Maud have been very kind, 
much kinder than I deserve. I don’t like to feel 
that you are paying all my expenses.” 

“In return, you relieve me of a good deal of care 
by undertaking the charge of Maud. If I had not 
a great deal of confidence in you, I would not be 
willing to leave you together as much as I have.” 

“Thank you for your confidence, Mr. Lindsay,” 
said Harry. “I hope you will find that I deserve it. 
I am glad if I have been able to make you any 
return for your kindness. Still I cannot help feel- 
ing, for my mother’s sake, that I ought to find 
something to do, in order that I may return home 
as soon as possible.” 

“I might offer to pay your passage back to New 


242 SINK OR SWIM 

York,’* said Mr. Lindsay; “but If I were In your 
place, now that you are out here, I should wish to 
stay a few months. You may never again have a 
chance to visit Australia, and It is worth exploring. 
You can write to your mother, so as to relieve her 
from anxiety.” 

“I have done so already,” said Harry. 

“That’s well. Now have you any plans of your 
own? If you have, and will state them, I will give 
you my advice as to their wisdom.” 

“I have been hearing a good deal of the gold 
mines,” said Harry, “and I think I should like to 
try my luck in them. Yesterday I saw a miner who 
had just returned to Melbourne, after working six 
months. In that time he made ten thousand dol- 
lars, which he brought with him. He is an Ameri- 
can, and means to return to New York by the next 
steamer.” 

“Yes, there are such cases of extraordinary luck; 
but I hope you won’t be too sanguine, or you will, 
in all probability, be disappointed. It is not every 
one who earns even a thousand dollars In that 
time.” 

“I know that,” said Harry. “Still, my chance 
would be as good as any, and I might be lucky. 
At any rate, I have nothing to loose, and should 
see something of the country.” 

“That is true. Well, when do you want to 
start?” 


243 


SINK OR SWIM 

“I should like to start as soon as possible.” 

‘‘I et it be next Monday morning, then. I will 
take care that you don’t go empty-handed.” 

“I don’t think you ought to give me so much, 
Mr. Lindsay.” 

“Leave me to decide that. Now shall we call in 
Maud? I suppose she is tormented by curiosity to 
know what we are talking about.” 

“The reason I did not want to speak before her 
was that I was afraid she would urge me not to go 
away.” 

“Yes, she will miss you very much; but we shall 
expect to hear from you, and to see you again soon, 
if only on a visit.” 

As Harry anticipated, Maud strenuously op- 
posed his plan; but our hero felt that, however 
pleasant it might be to remain, it was his duty to 
go. It was of course very agreeable to enjoy the 
luxurious accommodations of a first-class hotel ; but 
all this was not advancing him in life, and, how- 
ever kind Mr. Lindsay might be, he felt a degree 
of delicacy in living at his expense. 

Monday morning soon came. Mr. Lindsay 
called Harry aside, and said: 

“My young friend, you will need some money to 
start with. In this purse you will find fifty sover- 
eigns (about two hundred and fifty dollars in 
gold) . I think it will support you till you can earn 
something.” 


244 SINK OR SWIM 

“But, Mr. Lindsay,” said Harry, quite over- 
whelmed by this munificent gift, “I ought not to 
accept so much money.” 

“My young friend, when I was a boy, I met a 
friend who took an interest in me, and helped me 
on. I will try to do the same by you. I am a rich 
man and can afford it. Say no more about it, but 
if you need more, or get into any difficulty, let me 
know, and I will do what I can to help you.” 

Our hero clasped the hand of the generous mer- 
chant warmly. 

“I wish I knew how to thank you,” he said. 

“You can do so, by justifying my good opinion 
of you, Harry,” said Mr. Lindsay, kindly. 

“I will try to do that at least,” said Harry, earn- 
estly. “I will never forget your generous kind- 
ness.” 

That afternoon Harry started for the gold- 
diggings. He did not go alone. He was fortunate 
enough to fall in, at one of the hotels, with a man 
of middle age, a rough-looking man to appear- 
ance, but, as Harry afterwards discovered, a man 
of warm heart and much kindness. This was the 
way the acquaintance was made. 

Harry overheard him speaking of the mines, 
from which he said he had only recently returned. 
When he had finished speaking, Harry said : 

“May I speak to you a minute, sir?” 

“An hour if you like,” said the other, kindly. 


SINK OR SWIM 245 

“I wanted to ask you something about the 
mines.” 

“Are you thinking of going there?” asked the 
stranger, surveying him attentively. 

“Yes,” said Harry. 

“It is a rough sort of life you will have to lead 
there, my boy.” 

“I expect so, but I think I can rough it, for a 
time at least.” 

“Well, if you have good pluck I have nothing to 
say. But it ain’t everybody that succeeds.” 

“No, sir, I suppose not; but I have a chance.” 

“At any rate I have no right to dissuade you, for 
I was successful.” 

“Are you willing to tell me about it?” 

“No objection at all. I was there four months. 
In the first three I didn’t pay expenses, but in the 
fourth month I more than made up for all my ill 
luck. How much do you think I’ve got lodged 
with my bankers here ?” 

“A thousand dollars?” 

“A thousand dollars seven times over. Eight 
thousand dollars I cleared in that last month, and 
seven of it I have salted down.” 

Harry’s eyes sparkled. 

“I only wish I could be as fortunate,” he said, 
earnestly. 

“What would you do with your money then?” 
asked the other. 


246 SINK OR SWIM 

“I would take care of my mother, and make her 
comfortable.” 

“Tell me about your mother — that is, if you 
don’t mind. I’ve got nobody belonging to me, 
more’s the pity, and perhaps that’s the reason why 
I like to hear about other people’s relations.” 

Harry thereupon began to relate his story, and, 
assured by the stranger’s manner that he was in- 
terested, kept on to the end. 

“You’ve had bad luck, boy,” he said, at the end; 
“but maybe it’ll turn out for the best. Perhaps 
you have been sent to this out-of-the-way part of 
the world on purpose to make your fortune. Who 
knows?” 

“I wish it might turn out so.” 

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said the stranger. “I 
didn’t mean to go back to the mines. Seven thou- 
sand dollars was enough for me; but I’ve a great 
mind to go back with you.” 

“I wish you would,” said Harry. “I’d like to 
go with somebody that knows the mines, and can 
help me with his advice.” 

“I will go then,” said the other, emphatically. 
“Now tell me when you want to go.” 

“Next Monday.” 

“That will suit me as well as any time. I’m be- 
ginning to get tired of the city. There is nothing 
to do here. There’s something in the wild, free 


SINK OR SWIM 247 

life of the mines that I like. It’s agreed then; 
we’ll go together.” 

“Yes,” said Harry, “and I am very glad that I 
have secured company.” 

“So am I. There’s no one out there that I cared 
to make a friend of. It’s ‘every man for himself, 
and devil take your neighbor.’ Perhaps I was as 
bad as the rest. But I feel an interest in you, and 
whether you find any gold or don’t find any, you’ll 
need a friend. Perhaps you’ll need one more if 
you are successful than if you fail. What is your 
name?” 

“Harry Raymond.” 

“And mine is John Bush. I would give you my 
card if I had any, but they don’t care about such 
things at the mines. Will you take supper with 
me?” 

“No, thank you ; I shall be expected back.” 

“Have a cigar, then?” 

“I never smoke, Mr. Bush.” 

“So much the better, Harry. But it’s second 
nature to me, and I can’t leave off. Let me see, 
what day is it?” 

“Friday.” 

“Then Monday we will start. Call and see me 
before that time.” 

“I’ll call to-morrow afternoon.” 

“Very good. We’ll arrange then all that needs 
arranging.” 


248 SINK OR SWIM 

So they parted. 

Bush, as Harry saw, was rather rough in his 
manners, but he seemed kindly. He felt fortunate 
in meeting him, for his advice would be valuable, 
especially as he had been successful. Besides, as 
he began to understand, the undertaking upon 
which he was about to enter was one of difficulty 
and perhaps danger, especially for one so young, 
and he would be the better for a friend like Bush. 
He saw him again, as promised, on Saturday, and 
got a list of things which the miner informed him 
would be necessary. 


SINK OR SWIM 


249 


CHAPTER XXX 

THE VICTORIA GOLD MINES 

Four weeks had passed. The scene has changed 
for Harry. He is no longer living in a first-class 
city hotel on the fat of the land, but is “roughing 
it” at the Victoria mines, seventy miles northwest 
of Melbourne. 

These diggings were of limited extent, occupy- 
ing not above a square mile; but this square mile 
was a scene of extraordinary animation and activ- 
ity. Scattered over it were hundreds of miners, 
rough-bearded, and clothed with little regard to 
taste or elegance. They represented many coun- 
tries, differing widely except in being all occupied 
by one engrossing passion, the love of gold. Some, 
rough as they now look, had been gentlemen at 
home, fastidious in their dress and personal ap- 
pearance, but not to be recognized now, so much 
were they changed. Others had always been 
roughs, and this life which they were now leading 
was little adapted to improve them. But it is not 
necessary to speak of the mines in general. Our 


250 SINK OR SWIM 

interest is confined to two, and these two are of 
course Harry and his adviser and friend, John 
Bush. 

At the moment of my introducing them once 
more to the reader, Bush was seated upon the 
ground smoking a pipe, while Harry was carefully 
inspecting the back of a shovel, from which he had 
just been washing some earth, in search of particles 
of gold. 

“Do you find anything, boy?” asked Bush, tak- 
ing his pipe from his mouth. 

Harry came nearer, that Bush might examine 
for himself. 

“Yes,” he said, “there is a little.” 

“It’s the only gold I have found to-day.” 

“Yes, lad, we are not growing rich very fast, 
that’s a fact. We’ve been at work more than three 
weeks, and I don’t think we have netted five 
ounces.” 

“No,” said Harry. 

I may remark here that an ounce is worth not 
far from twenty dollars. It follows accordingly 
that the amount referred to represented less than a 
hundred dollars. 

“I’ll tell you what I have been thinking of, 
Harry,” said Bush. 

“What is it?” 

“I think our chances will be better further up 
the hill. Here we may, if we are lucky, get three 


SINK OR SWIM 251 

ounces a week — probably not as much. What I 
want is a nugget.” 

“But that isn’t so easy to find,” said Harry. 

“No, that’s true; but they are found, for all that. 
Shall I tell you what has made me think of it 
most?” 

“Yes, if you will.” 

Bush lowered his voice. 

“Do you see that spot, about half a mile away, 
where that rough, gray rock stands ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Three nights ago I dreamed that I found a big 
nugget within a yard of that rock. Now, I never 
put much faith in dreams ; but I’ve had that same 
one twice since.” 

“You have?” said Harry, interested. 

“Yes, and you know what they say, ‘the third 
time never fails.’ I’m not over-superstitious, 
Harry, but it’s my idea that dream means some- 
thing. What do you say?” 

“It is very singular, at any rate,” said Harry. 

“At any rate, I’ve a mind to see what it means, 
if it means anything. So I’m going to leave you 
here, and go up there. If I find nothing, well and 
good, I’ll come back. If I’m lucky, we’ll share the 
good luck. What do you say?” 

“That you are very generous. Bush.” Harry 
had come to call him so, for they are not very cere- 
monious at the mines. 


252 SINK OR SWIM 

“Wait till you have something to thank me for.” 

The next morning, accordingly, Harry was left 
alone. He worked all day without meeting with 
much success. All the gold he found probably 
would not have amounted to fifty cents, and that 
was not a very liberal compensation for the long 
and tiresome labor needed. 

At nightfall Bush came back. 

“Well, Bush,” said Harry, “have you met with 
any success?” 

“No,” said Bush, “and I didn’t expect any, not 
to-day.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s only the first day.” 

“Still you might find something the first day. 
Did you find nothing?” 

“Yes, a few grains of gold; but that I did not 
care for. I’m after a nugget. You don’t under- 
stand what I mean by the first day.” 

“No.” 

“I had that dream three times, you know, 
Harry,” said the miner, lowering his voice. “It’s 
impressed on my mind that if I find anything it’ll 
be on the third day.” 

“Perhaps you will,” said our hero, who was im- 
pressed by the evident earnestness of his compan- 
ion. “At any rate, I hope so.” 

The next morning Bush left Harry, and returned 
to the rock. 


SINK OR SWIM 253 

While Harry was at work, meeting with a little 
more success than the day before, a rough fellow, 
Henderson by name, lounged up to him. 

“What luck, comrade?” he asked. 

“Not much,” said Harry. “I haven’t made my 
fortune yet.” 

“Nor I,” said Henderson, emphasizing the de- 
claration with an oath. “I’ve had cursed bad luck 
all along.” 

This was not surprising, for Henderson was a 
lazy, shiftless fellow, whose main idea was to make 
a living without earning It. He had come from 
London, where his reputation was none of the best, 
and had haunted the mines for a considerable time. 
He worked at mining by fits and starts, but never 
long enough to gain anything. At one time. In- 
deed, he appeared to have considerable money, with 
which he returned to Melbourne, where he soon got 
rid of It. Where he got this money was a mystery. 
But it happened, by an unfortunate coincident, that 
just at that time a poor fellow who, by hard labor, 
had managed to collect about fifty ounces of the 
precious metal, suddenly found himself stripped of 
everything. There were some who suspected Hen- 
derson of knowing something of this gold, and 
where It went to; but nothing was done. Harry 
had seen him more than once, and he understood 
very well what sort of a character he was; so, at 


254 SINK OR SWIM 

present, he hoped that the fellow would soon leave 

him. 

“Where’s your pal?” asked Henderson. 

“You mean Bush?” 

“Who else should I mean?” 

“He’s trying another place.” 

“Whereabouts?” 

Harry pointed out Bush further up the hill. The 
distance being but quarter of a mile, it was possible 
to distinguish him. 

“What sent the fool up there?” 

“He is not a fool,” said Harry, shortly. 

“Call him what you like; he’s a fool if he expects 
to find anything up there.” 

“He has his reasons,” said Harry. 

“What are they?” inquired Henderson, growing 
attentive. 

“You must ask him if you want to know,” said 
Harry. 

Henderson went off whistling, and our hero, on 
thinking the matter over, was rather sorry that he 
had hinted as much about his friend’s reasons for 
going up the hill. Having a very poor opinion of 
Henderson, he feared that the latter would watch 
and find out if anything of importance were discov- 
ered, and this was hardly desirable in a district 
where the ordinary restraints of law were relaxed, 
and cupidity often led to violence. At any rate, 
Harry determined to put Bush on his guard. 


SINK OR SWIM 255- 

“Bush,” he said, when the latter returned, “Hen- 
derson has been asking about you to-day. He 
thought you were a fool to go up there after gold.” 

“Let him think so if he likes.” 

“But I am afraid you will think that I am the 
fool.” 

“Why so?” 

“Because I told him you had reasons for going 
there.” 

“Just as well not said, my lad; but no harm’s 
done.” 

“Have you found anything yet?” 

“No; but it’s only the second day, you remem- 
ber.” 

“You still think that the third day will be the 
lucky one ?” 

“Yes, If any.” 

“That Is to-morrow.” 

“Yes, to-morrow will decide. If I don’t find 
anything to-morrow, I shall give It up for a bad 
job, and come back.” 

They had a tent just off the grounds. Here they 
slept and lived, cooking their food, and keeping 
house. If It may be called so. When the day’s work 
was over. Bush generally sat down at the door of 
the tent, and smoked a pipe. He tried to induce 
Harry to do the same; but our hero had never 
touched tobacco, and had no cravings for it. So 
he always declined. 


256 SINK OR SWIM 

When the pipe was smoked, Bush, if he hap- 
pened to feel in a communicative mood, often re- 
lated incidents from his life, which had been an 
adventurous one. To these narrations Harry 
always listened with interest. 

“I’ve been a rolling stone, Harry,” said his com- 
panion. “It might have been different; but all that 
belong to me are dead. There’s nobody I feel an 
interest in except you. I’m going to keep track of 
you, and when I die, if I leave anything, you shall 
have it.” 

“Don’t talk about dying,” said Harry. “Per- 
haps you’ll live longer than I.” 

“Perhaps so; but I’m a deal older, my lad. 
There’s more chance for you.” 

Bush was a man in the prime of life, and Harry 
built no hopes on this promise. He only thought 
that it was very kind, and, it being his nature to 
repay kindness with kindness, he felt drawn to his 
rough companion more closely on learning of his 
intention. 

The next morning Bush returned to his digging 
on the hillside, and Harry continued at the same 
place, meeting with a little success, but not much. 
However, there were some who worked for months 
with less encouragement, and finally met with a 
streak of luck. So Harry did not lose hope, though 
he felt that it was tantalizing and trying to the 
patience. 


SINK OR SWIM 257 

At nightfall Bush came back. Before he had 
come up to him, Harry read in his excited look that 
something had happened. 

“What luck?” he asked. 

Bush looked about him cautiously. There were 
two men within hearing distance, so he lowered his 
tone. He only uttered five words, but they were of 
such a character that Harry became no less excited 
than he. 

*^The dream has come triieF* 

This was what he said, and Harry understood 
at once. 

“Let us go and take a walk, my lad.” 

Harry eagerly complied with his invitation, and 
they wandered away till they were out of earshot 
of any one. 

“Now tell me all about it,” said he. 

“It was about the middle of the afternoon,” said 
Bush; “the day was nearly gone, and I began to 
think what a fool I was to place such dependence 
upon a dream, even if it were three times repeated. 
However, it was only the loss of three days, and 
that wasn’t much; so little harm was done, if all 
came to nothing. Of course I wasn’t going to give 
up till the day was over. Just as I w’as thinking 
this, suddenly I struck against something hard. I 
kept on, not hoping much, till I brought out a nug- 
get — a stunner, I tell you.” 

“How much would it weigh?” asked Harry. 


258 SINK OR SWIM 

“I hefted It,” said Bush, “and it doesn’t weigh 
an ounce less than twenty-five pounds.” 

Twenty-five pounds! Harry held his breath In 
astonishment and delight. He performed a rough 
calculation hastily in his head, and it dawned upon 
him that the nugget must be worth at least five 
thousand dollars. 

That was pretty good for one day’s work. 


SINK OR SWIM 


259 


CHAPTER XXXI 

THE DEATH OF BUSH 

“Where Is the nugget? What did you do with 
It?” Inquired Harry. 

“I burled it In the spot where I found It,” said 
Bush. “I didn’t dare to bring It here in open 
day. There are worthless fellows enough here- 
abouts that wouldn’t hesitate to take my life for the 
sake of It.” 

“But you can’t help Its being found out that you 
have It.” 

“No more I can; but In an hour after It Is known 
I start for Melbourne.” 

“Will you go to-morrow?” 

“Yes, my lad, we will both go to-morrow. It’s 
share and share alike, you know. Half the nugget 
is yours, and if anything happens to me the whole, 
and all the money I have in Melbourne.” 

“Thank you. Bush; but I’d rather you’d enjoy it 
yourself. I’d return the compliment, but I’m afraid 
all the money I have wouldn’t help you much.” 


26 o sink or swim 

“You’re young yet. There’s time enough for 
you to become rich, as I doubt not you will.” 

About half-past nine o’clock Bush and Harry 
threw themselves down in the shadow of their tent, 
and courted sleep. They did not take the trouble 
to undress, but merely wrapped themselves in blan- 
kets and lay down. 

“I feel more sleepy than usual,” said Bush. 
“Maybe it’s the excitement of finding the nugget.” 

“That’s what keeps me awake,” said Harry. As 
he spoke he began to listen intently. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Bush. 

“I thought I heard somebody just outside.” 

“Somebody passing on their way to their own 
tent.” 

“It may be so. I hope whoever it is didn’t hear 
what you said about the nugget.” 

“They wouldn’t find it here, at any rate. Good- 
night, Harry.” 

“Good night.” 

Bush turned over, and it was not long before his 
deep breathing indicated that he was fast asleep. 
Harry, on the contrary, was wakeful. He had a 
nervous, restless feeling, as if something were go- 
ing to happen, though his forebodings were indefi- 
nite, and took no decided shape. 

At length he fell into a light slumber. How 
long it lasted he could not tell. But all at once he 
awoke, to find a man bending over Bush with a 


SINK OR SWIM 261 

knife in his hand. He uttered a cry of horror, and 
sprung to his feet, but too late! The knife de- 
scended, penetrating the breast of the ill-fated 
miner, who awoke with a groan. 

“Give me the nugget quick, boy, or I’ll serve you 
the same way,” said the murderer, turning to 
Harry. 

By the uncertain light Harry recognized Hen- 
derson. 

“Wretch!” he exclaimed, in a tone of horror, 
“what have you done?” 

“There’s no time for talking,” said Henderson, 
fiercely; “give me the nugget, or (here he inter- 
polated an oath) I’ll send you after Bush.” 

He raised his knife, but Harry was too quick for 
him. Fearing danger in some form, he had placed 
Bush’s revolver in his pocket when he lay down. 
He drew it out suddenly, and, presenting it, fired. 
The charge took effect in Henderson’s right shoul- 
der. With an oath, he dropped the knife, and, 
staggering out of the tent, fell just outside. 

“Well done, my lad !” said Bush, feebly. 

“Are you much hurt. Bush?” asked Harry, bend- 
ing over the sufferer, and speaking anxiously. 

“He’s done for me, Harry. I shan’t live till 
morning.” 

“Don’t say that. Bush. Perhaps you’re not so 
much hurt as you think for.” 

“There’s no hope, lad. I’m going to die. I 


262 SINK OR SWIM 

don’t know why, but I had a presentiment that 

death wasn’t far off.” 

By this time the occupants of two neighboring 
tents had come up. Seeing Henderson lying groan- 
ing just outside, they entered and asked what was 
the trouble. 

It was soon explained. 

Now Bush was popular among the miners, and 
Henderson the reverse, his character being thor- 
oughly understood. 

“We’ll hang him to the nearest tree,” they said. 

“Wait till to-morrow,” said Harry. “Then let 
the whole company of miners decide what is to be 
done.” 

To this at length they assented, but cast glances 
far from friendly at the prostrate wretch, with 
whose groans of pain were now mingled appeals 
for mercy. 

“Comrades,” said Bush, feebly, “come here a 
moment, I’ve something to say.” 

“Say on. Bush.” 

“That wretch has killed me. To-morrow won’t 
find me alive. That I know full well. Now I want 
you to witness that this lad here is to have all I 
possess. There’s a matter of fourteen hundred 
pounds with Bird & Bolton, bankers in Melbourne, 
and what I have here the lad knows. He is to have 
all. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Bush.” 


SINK OR SWIM 263 

“IVe paper and ink in my tent,” said one; “I’ll 
bring them, and draw up a line to that effect, which 
you shall sign if you can.” 

“Do so, and quick,” said Bush. 

In five minutes the paper was brought and the 
man who proposed this plan, after asking Harry’s 
name, wrote as follows : 

“I, John Bush, being about to die, bequeath to 
Harry Raymond, here present, all that I have, 
namely, fourteen hundred pounds in the hands of 
Bird & Bolton, bankers, of Melbourne, and what- 
ever I may leave here.” 

“I don’t know whether that’s ship-shape,” said 
the writer; “but if you sign it, we will witness it, 
and I think it will do.” 

The pen was placed in Bush’s fingers, and he 
succeeded with some difficulty in affixing his signa- 
ture, after which he sank back exhausted. The 
three men who had come up put down their names 
as witnesses, or rather two of them did, and the 
third, who was unable to write, made his mark. 

“I’m glad that’s done,” said Bush, a smile of 
satisfaction crossing his face. “I can die more con- 
tent. Give the paper to the lad.” 

The paper was handed to Harry, who received it 
with much emotion. 

“Thank you. Bush,” he said; “but I’d ten times^ 
rather you’d live to enjoy this money yourself.” 


264 SINK OR SWIM 

“I don’t doubt it, lad; but it wasn’t to be. I 
hope the money’ll give you pleasure. Then I can 
think that I have done some good.” 

The three men who had witnessed the paper next 
turned their attention to Henderson. 

“What are you going to do with me?” he asked, 
nervously. 

“You’ll see in the morning,” said one, grimly. 

He was securely bound, and carried to one of 
the tents, where he was kept under secure guard. 
Meanwhile Harry watched beside the suffering 
man. 

“I wish there was a doctor near by,” he said. 

“No doctor could do me any good now,” said 
Bush. “I’ve got my death-wound.” 

Indeed it seemed so. The knife had done its 
work so surely that not all the doctors in the world 
could have saved the miner from death. About 
four o’clock in the morning he died. Then Harry, 
exhausted with watching, fell asleep beside his dead 
comrade, and slept heavily till he was aroused by a 
rough shake. 

He looked up, and recognized one of the three 
men who had come to their tent the night before. 

“Are you coming to see Henderson swing?” he 
asked. 

“What?” 

“We’ve tried him, and he’s to be hung as soon 
as they can get a rope.” 


SINK OR SWIM 265 

Justice is swift in mining communities. It was 
not yet seven o’clock in the morning, but the guilty 
man had already been tried, and punishment was 
to be inflicted. 

Harry shuddered. 

“No,” he said; “I don’t want to see it.” 

“He killed your friend.” 

“I know he did; but I pity the poor wretch. I 
suppose he ought to be punished ; but I don’t want 
to see it.” 

“You’re toe "''ft-hearted; but just as you like.” 

An impromptu gallows had been erected, and 
a rope was soon forthcoming. Henderson was> 
dragged to it, pale and trembling, imploring mercy 
at every step. But there was no mercy in the hearts 
of the rough men who had him in charge. He had 
foully murdered one of their number, and they 
were determined that he should pay the penalty. 
Among the hundreds who participated in the scene, 
there were others perhaps as reckless and criminal 
as he, who, exposed to the same temptation, would 
have acted in the same manner. But they, too, 
heaped execrations upon the guilty man, as he cow- 
ered under the gaze of the vindictive mob, and 
were apparently as anxious as any that justice 
should be done. It might have been from policy, 
but, at all events, Henderson, as he glanced de- 
spairingly from one face to another, did not en- 
counter one kindly or pitying look. The only one 


266 SINK OR SWIM 

who pitied him was the boy whose friend had been 
stricken down at his side, and he was not present. 

I shall not linger on the details of the execution. 
No one of my readers, I am sure, can take pleasure 
in such a scene. 

Half an hour after, as Harry still lay in his tent, 
a miner came to him. 

“Is it all over?” asked Harry, sick at heart. 

“Yes, it’s all over. Henderson won’t prowl 
round any more.” 

During the day Bush was burl The funeral 
ceremonies were slight. A grave was dug on the 
hillside, and the body was lowered down, and 
hastily covered over. Harry procured a piece of 
board, which he set up for a gravestone, cutting on 
its surface, as well as he could, his friend’s name In 
rude capitals — ^JOHN BUSH. 

He took Into his confidence the three miners who 
have been already spoken of, and told them about 
the nugget, feeling that It might prove a source of 
danger to himself, as well as Bush, unless he availed 
himself of the assistance of others. He offered to 
divide a thousand dollars between them, if they 
would help him to get It safe to Melbourne. He 
had another reason also for desiring their company. 
They were witnesses to the paper which Bush had 
signed, and Harry thought It probable that their 
presence and testimony might be needed to satisfy 
Bird & Bolton, first of the death of Bush, and next 


SINK OR SWIM 267 

of his rightful claim to the money belonging to the 
deceased, which the firm had on deposit. 

The three miners were quite willing to accom- 
pany Harry. The sum which he offered them 
would probably far exceed their earnings during 
the time occupied, even after deducting all neces- 
sary expenses. A day later, therefore, Harry, es- 
corted by his three mining acquaintances, with the 
costly nugget in charge, started on his return to 
Melbourne. 



268 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER XXXII 

HARRY DECIDES TO LEAVE AUSTRALIA 

“I WISH Harry were here,” said Maud Lindsay, 
discontentedly. “It’s so lonesome since he went 
away.” 

“Upon my word, that is complimentary,” said 
her father. “You don’t appear to value my com- 
pany.” 

“Of course I do, papa; but then you know you 
are away a good deal of the time. ^ :ides, you 
are older than I am.” 

“That is unfortunately true. I believe most 
fathers are older than their daughters.” 

“Have you heard from Harry yet?” 

“Not since the letter of last week. He reported 
then that he had not found much gold.” 

“I wish he would make his fortune quick, so that 
he could come back.” 

“I begin to think you’re in love with Harry, 
Maud.” 

“I begin to think so too, papa. Would you ob- 
ject to him for a son-in-law?” 


SINK OR SWIM 269 

*‘Just at present I might. I don’t think you are 
old enough to be married.” 

“Don’t be foolish, papa. Of course I don’t want 
to be married till I am old enough.” 

“I can’t promise so long beforehand. Besides, 
it is just possible that Harry may have somebody 
else.” 

“I hope he won’t,” said Maud. “We just suit 
each other.” 

“You speak confidently, Maud. Perhaps you 
may change your mind.” 

“No, I shan’t,” said Maud, positively. “If I 
don’t marry Harry Raymond, I’ll be an old maid.” 

This conversation took place on the morning of 
Harry’s return to Melbourne. Indeed, Maud had 
hardly ceased speaking when a knock was heard at 
the door. Maud rose to open it. She was over- 
whelmed with delight when, in the visitor, in spite 
of his rough garb, she recognized our hero, the loss 
of whose company she had been deploring. 

“O Harry, how glad I am to see you !” she ex- 
claimed, actually hugging Harry in her delight. 

Harry was rather embarrassed at the unexpected 
warmth of his reception, but felt that it would be 
impolite not to kiss Maud in return, and accord- 
ingly did so. 

“I am glad to see you, Harry,” said Mr. Lind- 
say, advancing to meet him. “Have you just ar- 
rived from the mines?” 


SINK OR SWIM 


270 

“Yes, sir.” 

“I hope no ill luck has hurried you back.” 

“Partly ill luck, and partly good luck. Bush 
found a nugget of gold worth at least five thousand 
dollars.” 

“Then you had nothing to do with finding It?” 

“We were partners, and he Insisted that half 
of it belonged to me.” 

“That was generous. So you have come back to 
dispose of It. Is Bush with yc«T^” 

“No,” said Harry, soberly. “He Is dead.” 

“Dead ! Why, that Is sudden.” 

“I will tell you about It.” 

“Sit right down here, and tell me.” 

Harry seated himself, and gave a brief account 
of the murderous attack upon Bush, and his death, 
mentioning In the conclusion that he was the heir 
of the miner’s property. 

“Let me see the paper,” said Mr. Lindsay. 

Harry exhibited the paper signed by Bush just 
before he died. 

“Who are the witnesses whose names are written 
here?” 

“The three men who came up at the time of the 
murder.” 

“You will have to send for them to prove the 
validity of this document, and satisfy the bankers 
that you are the Harry Raymond to whom the 
money Is bequeathed.” 


SINK OR SWIM 271 

“They are here in Melbourne. I brought them 
with me.” 

“You are sharper than I thought. What made 
you think of this?” 

“I thought their testimony might be needed. Be- 
sides, I was liable to be attacked, and perhaps mur- 
dered on the way, if it were discovered that I had 
the nugget; so I offered them a thousand dollars 
between them if they would come up with me.” 

“It is a considerable sum, but I think you were 
wise to pay it. I know these bankers with whom 
your friend’s money is deposited. If you desire it, 
I will take the matter in hand, and present your 
claim at once.” 

“That is what I wanted to ask, Mr. Lindsay 
If you will be so kind, I shall be very much obliged 
to you.” 

“Then we had better lose no time. I have an 
hour to spare. Suppose you come with me now.” 

“But,” said Maud, “I want Harry to stay with 
me. 

“Business first, pleasure afterwards, Maud,” 
said her father; “and this business of Harry’s is of 
much importance.” 

“Well, Harry, come back as soon as you can,” 
said Maud. 

To this Harry readily agreed, and went out with 
Mr. Lindsay. 


272 SINK OR SWIM 

Messrs. Bird & Bolton were in their banking 
office. 

“Good morning, Mr. Lindsay,” said Mr. Bird, 
as that gentleman entered. “Is there anything I 
can do for you this morning?” 

“Not for me, but for this young man,” said Mr. 
Lindsay, presenting Harry. 

Mr. Bird looked at Harry In some surprise, for 
he was still clad In his rough miner’s costume. 

“You have fourteen hundred pounds left on 
deposit by John Bush, a miner, if I am rightly In- 
formed.” 

“Your information Is correct, Mr. Lindsay.” 

“John Bush is dead. This young man, whom I 
previously knew, was his partner, and to him Bush 
bequeathed all of which he died possessed.” 

“I suppose your young friend has proof to sub- 
stantiate his claim,” said Mr. Bird, cautiously. 

“He has.” 

Here Mr. Lindsay produced the paper already 
referred to. 

“This seems correct, but the witnesses ought to 
be produced. They might be men of straw.” 

“Of course. In such a matter, you are right to 
be cautious. The witnesses are all in Melbourne, 
and shall be produced,” said Mr. Lindsay. 

“I have no doubt all will be satisfactory; but, of 
course, as a man of business, Mr. Lindsay, you will 
not be surprised that we require absolute proof.” 


SINK OR SWIM 273 

“You are perfectly right in doing so. I should 
do the same in your place. We propose to bring 
the witnesses here, that you may satisfy yourself 
that all is genuine, and as it should be. If you will 
appoint an hour that will suit your convenience 
they shall be on hand.” 

“To-morrow at eleven, then.” 

“Very well.” 

After a little more conversation Mr. Lindsay 
and Harry withdrew. 

“There is one thing more that I would like your 
advice about,” said Harry. 

“What is that? Of course you shall have it.” 

“I want to sell my nugget to the best advan- 
tage.” 

“Where is it?” 

“I will bring it to the hotel at any time. It is in 
charge of the three miners.” 

“You are rather careless to trust them.” 

“I don’t know but I am,” said Harry; “but I 
didn’t know what else to do.” 

“I will go around with you to the place where 
they are stopping, and then will call with you upon 
a man who deals in gold. The matter may as well 
be settled at once.” 

The three miners had put up at an inferior inn 
in a narrow street running out of the principal 
avenue in Melbourne. Luckily they were at home 
when Harry called with Mr. Lindsay. 


274 SINK OR SWIM 

The latter found a certain reluctance on their 
part to give up the nugget. 

“You see,” said one, “this young chap has prom- 
ised us two hundred pounds between us. Maybe 
he will forget all about that, and leave us to shift 
for ourselves.” 

“Do you think I would be so mean?” exclaimed 
Harry. 

“The man is right,” said Mr. Lindsay. “He 
W'ants to have everything made sure.” 

“But I can’t pay them till the gold is sold.” 

“That’s true; nor would it be advisable, for you 
want their testimony before the bankers. But I 
think I see a way to arrange matters.” 

“How is that?” asked Harry. 

“I will advance one-half the sum you promised 
at once, and guarantee the payment of the balance 
to-morrow afternoon, after they have rendered in 
their testimony at the banking house.” 

This suggestion was accepted by all parties as 
the best practical solution of the difficulty arising 
from the conflicting interests of the two parties, 
namely, the three miners on the one hand, and 
Harry on the other. It must not be supposed that 
they had seen anything in him to inspire distrust; 
but it is a good rule to keep friendship and business 
apart, and appearances are sometimes deceptive. 

It will not be necessary to follow out the business 
in all its details. There were some unexpected 


SINK OR SWIM 275 

delays ; but at the end of a fortnight the whole mat- 
ter was settled, and Harry found himself, not in- 
deed rich, but richer than he ever anticipated. 

The gold nugget was found to be worth five 
thousand four hundred and fifty dollars. The 
money in the banker’s hands, with accruing interest, 
amounted to seven thousand and seventy-five. The 
account was rendered in English currency, but for 
convenience sake I have reduced it to Federal 
money. This, then, was the final statement of 
Harry’s inheritance: 

On deposit with Bird & Bolton. . . .$7,075.00 

Sum realized from gold nugget. . . 5,450.00 


Total $12,525.00 

From this amount must be deducted the thou- 
sand dollars which Harry agreed to pay to the 
three miners. When this was done, he was left 
with eleven thousand five hundred and twenty-five 
dollars, which, for a boy of his age, was certainly a 
very comfortable capital. 

When the matter was settled, Harry began to 
bethink himself of home, and told Mr. Lindsay 
that he felt it his duty to go back to America as 
soon as possible and gladden his mother’s heart 
with the news of his good fortune. 

“You are right, Harry,” said Mr. Lindsay, 


276 SINK OR SWIM 

promptly. “Your first duty is to your mother. I 

will not say a word to dissuade you from it.’’ 

But if Mr. Lindsay forbore to dissuade Harry, 
Maud was not so forbearing. She was exceedingly 
dissatisfied at the idea of losing the society of our 
hero. 

“Why can’t we all sail in the same steamer, 
papa?” she said. 

“Because, Maud, I am not ready to go back yet. 
My business is not finished.” 

“Then I shall never see Harry again.” 

“I think you will. I have invited Harry to visit 
us in England next summer, and I think he will 
accept the invitation.” 

“Will you, Harry?” asked Maud, eagerly. 

“I will if I can, Maud,” said Harry; “and I 
think I can.” 

“I am afraid you will forget me, Harry.” 

“I certainly shall not, Maud. You have been 
too kind for that. As soon as I get back to Amer- 
ica I shall write to you, and let you know how I 
arrived.” 

Maud was forced to be satisfied with this prom- 
ise. Harry made all needed preparations for his 
return, and a week from the time when his affairs 
were settled, he took cabin passage on a steamer 
bound from Melbourne to New York. We must 
precede him, and inquire how matters have been 
going on in Vernon during his absence. 


SINK OR SWIM 


277 


CHAPTER XXXIII 

SQUIRE TURNER SPINS HIS WEB 

Harry^S disappearance inflicted a blow upon 
Mrs. Raymond from which she did not easily re- 
cover. Coming so soon after her husband’s sudden 
death, she felt that her life had indeed become 
desolate, and but that she knew her life was neces- 
sary to little Katy, she would not have cared to 
live. But for Katy’s sake she tried to bear up as 
well as she could against her double loss. 

Besides, so far as Harry was concerned, she was 
not without hope that he might some day return. 
He might be dead; but of this there was no proof. 
Mrs. Raymond clung to the hope that, whatever 
might be the cause of his absence, it was not occa- 
sioned by death. But, in spite of this hope, it was 
hard to have day after day pass without any intelli- 
gence. The home seemed very lonely and sad now. 
Even little Katy, naturally a lively child, was sub- 
dued and more sober than she used to be. 

But Mrs. Raymond had another cause for anxi- 
ety, and that a serious one. During her husband’s 


278 SINK OR SWIM 

life she had always lived in comfort, and never felt 
any anxiety about the future. But now whatever 
money was to be earned for the support of the little 
household must be earned by herself, for of course 
Katy was too young to earn anything, and must for 
some years be kept at school. How to earn money 
enough to meet their expenses was a difficult prob- 
lem. She could think of no other way except sew- 
ing, and that, even under the best circumstances, as 
my readers very well know, is very poorly paid. 

Squire Turner occasionally called on Mrs. Ray- 
mond, feeling that it was for his interest to assume 
the role of a disinterested friend. One evening, 
about six weeks after Harry’s disappearance, he 
took his cane and walked over to the little cottage. 
The widow had come to look forward with interest 
to his visits, feeling in her position the need of a 
friend. She welcomed him, accordingly, with an 
evident pleasure, which he did not fail to notice. 

“I hope you are well, Mrs. Raymond,” he said, 
removing his hat, and taking the chair which the 
widow brought forward. 

“I am well in health. Squire Turner,” was the 
reply, “but I am very unhappy. I sometimes feel 
as if my sorrows are greater than I can bear.” 

“You have Katy left.” 

“Yes, Katy is a dear little girl. But for her I 
should not care to live. But for her and the hope 
that Harry may come back some time ” 


SINK OR SWIM 279 

“While there is life there is hope,’’ said the 
squire. “I mean while we are not certain of death, 
there is ground for hope.” 

“Don’t you really think he will come back some 
time. Squire Turner?” 

“Certainly, there is a chance of it,” said the 
squire, cautiously; “but it is not well to be too 
sanguine, for you know we cannot be sure of any- 
thing.” 

“If there was anything I could do,” replied the 
widow; “but I can only wait, and the suspense is 
very wearing.” 

“Of course, I quite feel for you. Depend upon 
it, I shall do what I can to relieve your anxiety 
whenever I see clearly what to do. You give me 
credit for that?” 

“Yes, Squire Turner, I know you are a true 
friend. The time was when I did you injustice; 
but I see more clearly now.” 

If Squire Turner had had any sense of shame he 
would have blushed at this testimony from the 
woman whom he had done so much to injure ; but 
his feelings were not very keen, and he only listened 
with complacency, perceiving that he had made 
good progress in securing the widow’s confidence. 
All his plans seemed to be working well thus far. 
He was now ready to take the next step, and this 
was to get Mrs. Raymond into his power by placing 
her under pecuniary obligations. 


28 o sink or swim 

“I hope you will excuse me one question which I 
am about to ask,” he said, “and believe that it is 
dictated, not by idle curiosity, but my interest in 
your welfare. Do you not feel considerable diffi- 
culty in earning enough money to defray your ex- 
penses?” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Raymond, “that is one of my 
troubles. Katy and I have few wants ; but I find it 
costs a good deal for food and fuel and clothes.” 

“Of course.” 

“Especially as I have no way of earning except 
by the needle. Sewing is very poorly paid.” 

“That is quite true. By the way, Mrs. Ray- 
mond, I shall be glad to give you all the work I 
have in that line, and to pay you a fair price for 
doing it.” 

“Thank you. Squire Turner. It will be a favor 
to me.” 

“And if you find you can’t meet your expenses, 
don’t hesitate at any time to apply to me for a 
loan.” 

“You are very kind, Squire Turner, but I don’t 
like to borrow money.” 

“I can understand your feelings about it; but 
you need not feel any delicacy.” 

“I am afraid I should never be able to repay the 
money.” 

“As to that, I can show you a way that will re- 
lieve your feeling.” 


SINK OR SWIM 281 

“What’s that?” 

“You are aware that this house belongs to you, 
with the exception of a mortgage of four hundred 
dollars, which I hold. Now it is probably worth 
over a thousand dollars,” he answered, courteously. 

“Mr. Raymond considered it worth, with the 
land, twelve hundred dollars.” 

“Ahem !” said the squire, who had his reasons 
for underrating the property; “it was probably 
worth that to him, but I don’t think it would fetch 
much over a thousand, if it were brought to a sale. 
However, that is not to the purpose. I only men- 
tioned it to suggest that the property might serve 
as ample security for any sum you might wish to 
borrow, so that you need not feel delicate about any 
loans you might be forced to ask.” 

“That is true,” said Mrs. Raymond. “I did not 
think of that.” 

“Have you a supply of money on hand at pres- 
ent?” asked the squire. 

Mrs. Raymond was forced to acknowledge that 
she had less than a dollar in the house. 

“I thought it might be so,” he said, “and there- 
fore I came provided. You had better let me lend 
you fifty dollars.” 

After some hesitation Mrs. Raymond consented 
to take the money. 

“If you will let me have a sheet of paper I will 
draw up a note, which you can sign,” said the 


282 SINK OR SWIM 

squire, smoothly. “I know that it will be more 
agreeable to your feelings to regard the loan as a 
business transaction rather than as a favor.” 

How could Mrs. Raymond feel otherwise than 
grateful to the man who entered so delicately into 
her feelings? She unhesitatingly acquiesced in 
what he proposed, and brought forward writing 
materials, with which Squire Turner drew up a 
note offhand, which Mrs. Raymond signed. He 
then drew from his pocketbook ten five-dollar bills, 
which he handed to the widow, depositing the note 
in his wallet. 

“There,” said he, pleasantly, “our business is at 
an end, and now we can talk as friends. I believe 
James is wanting some shirts. Shall you have leis- 
ure to make them ?” 

“I shall be very glad to do so.” 

“Then may I trouble you to buy the necessary 
materials? — you will be a better judge than I on 
that point. He will bring over one of his shirts as 
a pattern, and you may make them up at your 
leisure, and send in a bill for work and materials 
together.” 

Of course Mrs. Raymond was only too glad to 
accept this commission, and readily agreed to do as 
requested. 

Squire Turner continued, as he had begun, to act 
as a sympathizing friend of Mrs. Raymond. From 
time to time he supplied her with money as she 


SINK OR SWIM 283 

required it, in each case, however, taking her note 
for the amount, and, when the sum was sufficient to 
warrant it, securing It by an additional mortgage 
upon the property. When he proposed this, it was 
ostensibly to spare the feelings of the widow, and 
prevent her from feeling any delicacy or sense of 
pecuniary obligations. 

“You see, Mrs. Raymond,” he said, smoothly, 
“you have no cause to feel grateful to me. Every 
pecuniary transaction between us Is upon a strict 
business basis. I know you would prefer that It 
should be so.” 

“I know that you are very kind. Squire Turner, 
and I can’t help feeling grateful, though you tell 
me there Is no occasion for my being so.” 

This Is what Mrs. Raymond said, and she felt 
that Squire Turner was Indeed a very disinterested 
friend, though It would be hard to show In what 
respect he had been so. 

Meanwhile, Squire Turner had kept In constant 
correspondence with Mr. Robinson, the Milwaukee 
lawyer, touching the land grant already referred 
to, and It became necessary for him to obtain Mrs. 
Raymond’s authority to act for her In the matter. 
It was Important for him to do this, without lead- 
ing her to suspect that It was a matter of much 
moment. One evening he Introduced the subject 
as If casually: 

“By the way, Mrs. Raymond, your son Harry 


284 SINK OR SWIM 

placed in my hands some time since a land warrant 
belonging to your late father, with the request that 
I would ascertain whether it was worth anything.” 

“I remember it now that you mention it, Squire 
Turner,” said the widow. “I suppose it is worth- 
less.” 

“No,” said the squire, candidly. “I think you 
may get a little something for it. I suppose fifty 
or a hundred dollars would be acceptable.” 

“It would be more than I ever expected to 
realize from it. Do you really think it is likely to 
amount to as much as that?” 

“I really do — that is, I hope so. If you are con- 
tent to give me authority to act for you, I wfill do 
the best I can, and, of course, I shall charge you 
nothing for my services.” 

“How kind you are, Squire Turner. I will sign 
anything you think best.” 

“I have brought a paper properly drawn up, 
empowering me to act for you,” said the squire. 
“I will see that you have no trouble in the matter.” 

Here he produced the paper, and Mrs. Ray- 
mond unhesitatingly affixed her signature. 

“I am sure,” she said, “I never expected, after 
so many years, that the warrant would ever amount 
to anything.” 

“It may not, but I think it will. I will do my 
best for you. In fact, I shall be obliged to go West 
next week on some other business, and will take in 


SINK OR SWIM 285 

Milwaukee on my way. I never was there, and, 
apart from your business, I shall enjoy seeing the 
city.” 

Was it surprising that Mrs. Raymond consid- 
ered Squire Turner a very disinterested friend? 
She felt sure that he was putting himself to con- 
siderable trouble and some expense to promote her 
interests. As to that, it was certainly true that 
Squire Turner’s sole motive, in making the West- 
ern journey on which he had determined, was con- 
nected with Mrs. Raymond’s land warrant. 

What success he met with will be told in the fol- 
lowing chapter. 


286 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHAPTER XXXIV 

AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL 

The next week Squire Turner started for Mil- 
waukee. He did not mention this as his destination 
in the village, but stated that he had business in 
Chicago and beyond, not caring to excite any sus- 
picions in Vernon, which was just large enough for 
everybody to feel interested in everybody else’s 
affairs. But in reality he stopped in Chicago only 
long enough to take dinner, and then hurried on to 
Milwaukee, where he proceeded at once to the 
office of Mr. Robinson. 

“I am glad to see you. Squire Turner,’’ said the 
lawyer, rising from the table at which he was 
seated; “the fact is, I was just thinking over your 
business.” 

“Well, what is the prospect?” asked Squire 
Turner. 

“Excellent. The parties at first were disposed 
to bluff me off, and pooh-pooh our claims ; but they 
have probably taken legal advice and have changed 
their tune in consequence.” 


287 


SINK OR SWIM 

“Do they propose anything?” 

“Yes; they offer five thousand dollars for the 
surrender of the land warrant, which will insure 
them a perfect title.” 

“Five thousand dollars,” repeated Squire Tur- 
ner, slowly. “Of course, that is a good sum com- 
pared with the original value of the warrant; 
but ” 

“Small when the present value of the land is con- 
sidered. Precisely so.” 

“What, then, would you advise?” 

“I would advise you to hold off for more. You 
are not in a hurry, I suppose?” 

“Not if you think it will pay to wait.” 

“I do think so. If you are firm, it will argue a 
consciousness of strength, which will produce an 
impression on their minds.” 

“How much do you think I ought to get?” 

“Not less than ten thousand dollars.” 

“Is there a chance of their coming to that 
figure?” 

“Yes.” 

“I should prefer friendly compromise to initiat- 
ing legal proceedings, even if I get less.” 

Squire Turner had two reasons for this piefer- 
ence. First, he knew well enough the delays of the 
law, and that years might pass before the matter 
could be settled, if once the law should be appealed 
to. But, more than this, such a course would pro- 


288 SINK OR SWIM 

duce more or less publicity, and Mrs. Raymond 
might hear of it, which was very far from his 
wishes. But a compromise could be effected with- 
out any public mention of the affair, and this would 
be safer and more speedy. 

“By the way. Turner, are you personally inter- 
ested in this matter?” asked the lawyer. 

“Yes,” said the squire. “The claimant is a friend 
of mine, and I have advanced money on it, consid- 
ering it a fair security. If she loses, I also become 
a loser.” 

This was not true, except indirectly, for, as the 
reader knows. Squire Turner could only lose by 
being obliged to forego his purpose of marriage. 

“You have — excuse my inquiring — authority to 
act in the matter?” 

“Yes; I will exhibit it.” 

The squire drew out the document to which he 
had obtained Mrs. Raymond’s signature, as de- 
scribed in the preceding chapter. Mr. Robinson 
glanced at it. 

“Quite correct,” he said. “Well, then, what 
shall we decide?” 

“Stand out for ten thousand dollars,” said the 
squire. “I don’t mind a few months’ delay. In 
fact, for some reasons, the delay will be satisfac- 
tory to me.” 

“If such are your views, we shall probably gain 
our point,” said Mr. Robinson. “It will take some 


SINK OR SWIM 289 

time to bring up the parties to the point, but in six 
months I think it can be affected, if we stand firm. 
Will six months be too long?” 

‘‘Not at all. We will stand firm.” 

The conversation now touched upon matters of 
detail, on which we need not enter. It is enough to 
say that Mr. Robinson and his client agreed upon 
the policy advisable to be pursued, and the former 
agreed to keep the latter constantly apprised of the 
progress of the negotiation. 

I must stop here to explain why it was that 
Squire Turner was in no hurry to bring the matter 
to a conclusion. Nine months only had passed 
since Mr. Raymond’s death, and an offer of mar- 
riage on his part to Mrs. Raymond would, he felt, 
be considered premature, and be very probably de- 
clined. Now, if the matter was settled at once in 
favor of Mrs. Raymond, she was liable at any time 
to be made aware of it in some unforeseen way, and 
if thus made pecuniarily independent, the squire 
felt that she would prefer not to contract a second 
marriage. He counted upon obtaining her consent 
for the sake of her child, whom he could support in 
comfort and afford more advantages, which other- 
wise the mother would be quite unable to provide. 
It therefore suited his purposes better that the mat- 
ter should be protracted for, say six months, when 
a sufficient time would have elapsed, since Mr. Ray- 
mond’s death to make his proposal proper. 


290 SINK OR SWIM 

Squire Turner returned from his Western trip, 
and, of course, took an early opportunity to call on 
Mrs. Raymond. 

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” asked the 
widow. 

“Very. By the way, I stopped at Milwaukee on 
my return.” 

“Did you hear anything of the warrant?” 

“Yes; I find there Is a chance of realizing sev- 
enty-five or a hundred dollars from it. It is not 
much, to be sure ” 

“It will be a good deal to me. You are certainly 
very kind. Squire Turner. You must deduct any 
expenses which you have Incurred about It.” 

“I couldn’t think of It, Mrs. Raymond,” said the 
squire. In a cordial manner. “It is a pleasure to me 
to serve my friends.” 

“How much I have misjudged Squire Turner In 
times past!” thought Mrs. Raymond, and she 
thanked him again. 

Two months later Squire Turner received a let- 
ter from the Milwaukee lawyer. In which he stated 
that the parties had Increased their offer to seven 
thousand dollars. 

“Shall I accept It for you?” he asked. 

Squire Turner replied that the offer was not satis- 
factory, and that the negotiation must proceed. He 
was in no particularly hurry, he said. 


SINK OR SWIM 291 

A month later the offer was increased to eight 
thousand dollars. 

“Tell them,” he wrote, “that we will take a 
month to consider their offer. I am not in haste, 
as I before wrote, and am resolved not to accept 
any sum short of ten thousand dollars. Still it 
won’t do any harm to appear to consider their 
offer.” 

So negotiations continued until the six months 
had nearly passed. It seemed pretty clear now that 
Squire Turner’s ultimatum would shortly be ac- 
cepted, nine thousand dollars having been already 
offered. Mr. Robinson advised his client to come 
out to Milwaukee, feeling confident that, if he were 
personally present, the matter could be satisfac- 
torily arranged on his own terms. To this the 
squire was not averse; but first he wished to see 
what were his chances of success with the widow. 

Accordingly, he dressed himself with more than 
usual care, one evening, and walked round to the 
house of Mrs. Raymond. He had become such a 
frequent visitor there of late that his visits never 
excited surprise. 

He was received with the usual welcome. Mrs. 
Raymond ushered him into the sitting-room, where 
she had been sitting with little Katy. Katy was 
reading a book which she had taken from the 
Sunday-school library. Squire Turner looked at 


292 SINK OR SWIM 

her and hesitated, for he did not care to have the 

little girl present when he made his proposal. 

“Have you heard anything from Milwaukee, 
Squire Turner?” asked the widow. 

“Not very recently. I don’t doubt, however, 
that matters will turn out favorably. In fact, I 
am so confident that I am quite willing to advance 
you fifty dollars on the warrant.” 

“Thank you. Squire Turner; but just at present 
I have a little money on hand. I am glad you think 
I shall get it.” 

“I feel sure of it.” 

There was a moment’s pause, and then he pro- 
ceeded: “There is a matter about which I would 
like to speak to you alone, Mrs. Raymond, if you 
would be willing to send Katy out of the room for 
a few minutes.” 

“Certainly. Katy, you may go upstairs for a 
little while.” 

Katy left the room, and Squire Turner found 
himself alone with the widow. He drew his chair 
a little nearer and commenced : 

“I am about to make you a proposal, Mrs. Ray- 
mond, which I think will be mutually advantage- 
ous, and I hope you will regard it in that light. I 
have had it in view for some time, but felt delicate 
about introducing the subject before. I hope you 
regard me as a friend.” 


SINK OR SWIM 293 

“Indeed, you have been a true friend to me, 
Squire Turner.” 

“I have tried to be,” said the squire, modestly. 
“But I will not waste time, but at once make my 
proposal. You have lost your husband, I my wife. 
I need some one to superintend my house, and look 
after my son, while you need a protector who is 
able to give you a good home. Will you be my 
wife?” 

“Indeed, Squire Turner,” said Mrs. Raymond, 
startled, “I never anticipated that your proposal 
would be of such a character.” 

“And yet, why should you be surprised? Need 
I recall that time, years since, when we were both 
younger, and I made the same offer? You see my 
attachment is no new thing. You preferred an- 
other, but he has been taken from you.” 

“I thank you very much for your kind offer,” 
said Mrs. Raymond, “but I have never thought of 
marrying again since my husband’s death. I do not 
think It would be right.” 

“Such marriages take place continually.” 

“I know they do ; but all do not feel as I do.” 

“I think your late husband would favor It. 
Think of your dependent condition. You have 
hard work to earn a poor living, and when the four 
hundred dollars which remain to you are gone, you 
will Indeed be In a different position.” 

“That is true.” 


294 SINK OR SWIM 

“Consider, on the other hand, that I could give 
you a good home at once, and relieve you from all 
pecuniary anxiety. Your little Katy needs better 
advantages than you can give her. She seems to 
have a taste for music. I should have her at once 
commence lessons on the piano, and would take 
care that she should receive as good an education 
as money could procure. For her sake, Mrs. Ray- 
mond, I hope you will reconsider your decision.” 

Mrs. Raymond has often lamented her inability 
to have Katy properly educated, and the squire 
could have used no argument more potent. 

“If I thought it would be right,” said the widow, 
hesitatingly. 

“Think what a difference it will make in Katy 
half a dozen years hence. Of course, if I am per- 
sonally disagreeable to you ” 

“No, no, my kind friend; do not think that,” 
said Mrs. Raymond, hastily. “But I do not know 
what to say. The proposal is so new and unex- 
pected that I cannot make up my mind at once what 
it Is right for me to do.” 

“I will not ask you to decide at once. Take 
three days for it, and If you have any friend whom 
you trust, ask that friend’s advice. Will you do 
so ?” 

“Yes,” said the widow, “I will do as you advise. 
I will think over your proposal, and I wIU try to 
decide in three days’ time.” 


SINK OR SWIM 295 

“Then I will call on Tuesday to receive your 
decision. Let me hope it will be favorable.” 

Squire Turner left the cottage in a satisfied 
frame of mind. He felt sure that for Katy’s sake 
Mrs. Ra^Tnond would accept him. 


296 


SINK OR SWIM 


CHARIER XXXV 

IN WHICH TWO STRANGERS PUT IN AN APPEAR- 
ANCE 

Mrs. Raymond consulted with a friend, accord- 
ing to Squire Turner’s suggestion, and was advised 
by all means to accept. 

“It will be such an advantage for Katy, you 
know,” her friend said. 

“But I don’t feel as If It would be quite right. I 
don’t love Squire Turner.” 

“You don’t need to. People don’t often marry 
a second time for love. That will do very well for 
a young girl; but there are other things to be 
thought of now.” 

“Then you advise me to marry again?” 

“I do, most certainly.” 

“If Harry were at home I would not do It,” said 
the widow. “I don’t think he would like It. As it 
Is, It Is only for Katy’s sake that I give my consent.” 

So when Squire Turner called for his answer he 
found It to be favorable. He urged Immediate 
marriage. For this he had his reasons, as he de- 


SINK OR SWIM 297 

sired to be In a situation to complete his Western 
negotiation. 

“There Is no use In delaying,” he said. “The 
sooner Katy commences her musical education the 
better. Besides, I am lonely, and my household 
sadly needs a woman to look after It.” 

Mrs. Raymond would have preferred to post- 
pone the marriage for six months; but she could 
assign no reasons for It, and so at length yielded to 
the squire’s request, and that day four weeks was 
appointed for the wedding. The next day Squire 
Turner went to the city, and selected a handsome 
silk dress-pattern, which was forwarded by express 
to Mrs. Raymond, with an Intimation that It was 
for her wedding-dress. She could not do otherwise 
than accept It, and the village dressmaker was sent 
for at once to superintend Its making up. 

Time slipped by, and the day for the marriage 
had nearly arrived. The wedding-dress was com- 
pleted, and various other articles, which had also 
been sent through the squire’s liberality, lay upon 
the bed In Mrs. Raymond’s chamber. 

“What a beautiful dress, mother!” said Katy. 
“I w/sh you would try It on.” 

More to please the little girl than herself, Mrs. 
Raymond consented and tried on the new dress. 
She was still a fine-looking woman, as I have 
already said, and the new dress became her well. 
Little Katy looked at her in admiration, and said, 


298 SINK OR SWIM 

“How beautiful you look, mother! I wish Harry 

were here to see you.” 

At the sound of Harry’s name Mrs. Raymond’s 
face changed. She could not conceal from herself 
that what she was about to do would have been 
strongly opposed by Harry had he been at home. 
Would he ever come home? That was the question 
which occurred to her, and. If he did, what would 
he say to find her Squire Turner’s wife? 

“I wish I could put It oft for six months,” she 
thought 

They were In a room on the second floor, and 
there was no one In the lower part of the house. 
Just then the front door was heard to open. 

“Go downstairs, Katy,” said Mrs. Raymond. 
“Somebody has come In. See who It is, and come 
and tell me.” 

Katy went down, and directly Mrs. Raymond 
heard a loud exclamation. She could not exactly 
make It out, but It sounded like “Harry I” A wild 
hope sprang up In her heart. Without thinking of 
her bridal dress she hurried downstairs. She was 
not deceived. There stood Harry, her Harry, 
taller and manlier than when she saw him last, but 
with the same frank, handsome face, holding his 
little sister In his arms. 

“Harry!” exclaimed Mrs. Raymond, In joyful 
surprise; and In a moment the long-separated son 
and mother embraced. 


SINK OR SWIM 299 

“Gad be thanked for your return, my dear son !” 
she said. “Where have you been all this long 
time?” 

“It will take a long time to tell, mother. I have 
just returned from Australia.” 

“From Australia!” exclaimed Mrs. Raymond, 
in amazement. 

“Yes, mother, it’s a long story. I will tell it by 
and by. But how well you are looking I And ( for 
the first time noticing his mother’s elegant dress 
how handsomely you are dressed I Have you come 
into a fortune since I went away?” 

“No, Harry,” said Mrs. Raymond, confused. 

“I expected to find you in poverty, perhaps in 
want,” said Harry, puzzled more and more. “I 
didn’t think to see you dressed like a queen.” 

“It’s mother’s wedding-dress, Harry,” said little 
Katy, who did not share her mother’s embarrass- 
ment. 

“Your wedding-dress, mother!” Harry exclaim- 
ed, his face clouding. “Who are you going to 
marry?” 

“I did it for the best, Harry,” said his mother, 
uneasily; “and he has been very kind.” 

“Who is he, mother?” 

“Squire Turner. He ” 

“Squire Turner!” exclaimed Harry, vehemently, 
springing to his feet; “it is not possible you are 


300 SINK OR SWIM 

thinking of marrying him. He Is the worst enemy 

we have.’’ 

“No, Harry,” said his mother; “you are mis- 
taken there. You must, at least, do him justice. 
He has been very kind, very kind. Indeed. I don’t 
know how I should have got along, in the sad days 
after we lost you, but for his kindness.” 

“So you think he has been kind, mother?” said 
Harry, with a peculiar expression. 

“Very kind, as Katy can tell you,” said Mrs. 
Raymond. “Not that this Is reason enough to 
marry him. But It Is for Katy’s sake I am going 
to do It. Squire Turner has promised to give her 
every advantage, and she will begin to take music- 
lessons as soon as we are married. I have had very 
hard work getting along, Harry, and It was a relief 
to feel that I need have no more anxiety about mak- 
ing a living.” 

“Then you don’t love him, mother?” 

“I shall never love any one again, Harry. My 
love was burled in your father’s grave.” 

“I am glad of that, at any rate; glad that you 
don’t love this scoundrel ” 

“Harry, Harry, don’t talk so, I beg of you.” 

“Mother, I have good reason for all I say. I 
know Squire Turner better than you.” 

“How can you know him so well, when you have 
been away for more than a year?” 

“Have you any Idea why I went away so sud- 


SINK OR SWIM 301 

denly ? I don’t mean to New York ; but how it hap- 
pened that I disappeared from New York?” 

“No, Harry, I know nothing of it.” 

“Then I will tell you. Squire Turner, whom you 
think so kind, had me kidnapped on board a vessel 
bound for China, and I started on my long voyage 
without any chance of letting you know what had 
become of me.” 

“This is a strange story, Harry. Are you sure 
of it?” 

“Yes. I have proof of it. I did not suspect at 
first that Squire Turner had anything to do with 
the matter, till one day, in the cabin, I picked up a 
letter directed to Captain Brandon by Squire Tur- 
ner, which made it all clear.” 

“But what interest would Squire Turner have in 
getting you out of the country?” asked Mrs. Ray- 
mond. 

“I think I know of a reason, mother,” said 
Harry; “but I don’t care to mention it now.” 

“You said the vessel was bound for China. 
How, then, did you get to Australia?” 

“I w^as thrown into the sea,” said Harry, “and, 
after floating about for many hours, was picked up 
at length by a vessel bound for Australia.” 

“You have, indeed, encountered great perils, my 
dear son,” said his mother, shuddering. “Thank 
God, you escaped them all, and are once more re- 
stored to us.” 


302 SINK OR SWIM 

Harry was about to question his mother more 
particularly respecting her trials during his ab- 
sence, when a knock was heard at the door. 

“I will open it, mother,” said Harry. 

Opening the front door he saw on the step a 
well-dressed gentleman, whom he did not recog- 
nize. 

“Does Mrs. Raymond live here?” asked the 
stranger. 

“Yes, sir. Would you like to see her?” 

“I should like to do so. I am managing some 
business for her.” 

Here he offered his card, which bore the name: 

“FRANCIS ROBINSON, 

ttorney-at-Law, 

“Milwaukee.” 

Won’t you walk In, sir?” said Harry, consid- 
erably surprised. 

“This is my mother,” he said, introducing the 
lawyer. “Mother, this is Mr. Robinson, of Mil- 
waukee, who says he is attending to some business 
there for you.” 

“Will you be seated, sir?” said Mrs. Raymond. 
“I had not heard your name, but I suppose it’s 
about the land warrant.” 

“Yes, madam. I am glad to say that we have 
succeeded. I happened to be called East on busi- 


SINK OR SWIM 303 

ness, and thought I would call in person and com- 
municate the favorable termination of our negotia- 
tion. I went first to the house of Squire Turner; 
but, learning that he is out of town for a day or 
two, inquired you out, and have great pleasure in 
being the first to impart the good news to you.” 

“May I inquire,” said Harry, “how much my 
mother is likely to realize for the land warrant?” 

“The other party has agreed to your terms. 
They will compromise without an appeal to law, 
agreeing to pay ten thousand dollars. 

“Ten thousand dollars!” repeated Mrs. Ray- 
mond, in bewilderment. “Surely there is some mis- 
take. Squire Turner told me I might realize from 
seventy-five to a hundred dollars from it.” 

“Seventy-five to a hundred dollars!” he repeat- 
ed. “Are you sure you understood Squire Turner 
aright?” 

“Certainly. He told me only a fortnight since 
that he thought I would obtain this sum, and I felt 
lucky to get anything at all.” 

“There is a great mistake somewhere,” said the 
lawyer, significantly. “Of one thing, however, I 
can assure you — that the ten thousand dollars will 
actually be paid.” 

“Mother,” said Harry, “have you given Squire 
Turner authority to act for you in this matter?” 

“I have — that is, I signed a paper which he said 
gave him such authority.” 


304 SINK OR SWIM 

“He showed me that paper,” said Mr. Robinson. 

“Can my mother revoke that authority?” asked 
Harry. 

“Undoubtedly.” 

“Then she does revoke it at once — am I not 
right, mother?” 

“If you think best, Harry.” 

“I do think best. It is evident that Squire Tur- 
ner has not been faithful to your interests. If you 
wish, I will act as your agent.” 

“But you are so young, Harry.” 

“I have seen something of the world, mother, 
since I left home. I shall not hesitate to take 
charge of the business. Mr. Robinson will assist 
me. 

“Certainly. I shall be happy to do whatever I 
can.” 

“Then, Mr. Robinson, if It would not be too 
much trouble, and you can spare the time, will you 
give me a history of the case, and explain how mat- 
ters at present stand?” 

“I see,” said the lawyer, smiling, “that you know 
how to come to the point. I will endeavor to 
imitate you.” 

He made a brief and comprehensive statement, 
which Harry readily understood. 

“Have you the warrant, Mr. Robinson?” asked 
our hero. 


SINK OR SWIM 305 

“Yes; it was committed to me by Squire Tur- 
ner.” 

“That is all right. I was afraid he had it in his 
possession, and that might give us trouble.” 

“No; it is out of his power to affect the arrange- 
ments already made.” 

“How long shall you remain East, Mr. Robin- 
son?” asked Harry. “I shall wish to see you 
again.” 

“I shall remain in New York a week, my head- 
quarters being at the Astor House.” 

“I will call upon you there. Meanwhile, we 
leave this matter entirely in your hands.” 

Mr. Robinson was about to go, when little Katy, 
who had been looking out of the window, suddenly 
exclaimed : 

“Mother, I see Squire Turner coming up the 
road. I think he is coming here.” 

All present looked at each other in momentary 
doubt as to what was best to be done. Harry was 
the first to grasp the situation. 

“Mr. Robinson,” he said, “will you be kind 
enough to accompany me to another room, and 
wait? I would like your presence by and by. 
Mother, while you are upstairs and changing your 
dress, Katy will admit Squire Turner, and tell him 
you will be down directly. Mind, Katy, not a word 
about my having got home, or about Mr. Robin- 
son’s being here. When you come down, mother, 


3o6 sink or swim 

you must tell Squire Turner that you have changed 
your mind about marrying him, and, if he makes 
any objection, call me in.” 

“I see you are a master of strategy, my young 
friend,” said Mr. Robinson, smiling. “I place 
myself unhesitatingly in your hands.” 

Harry’s programme was instantly carried out, 
and one minute later Squire Turner knocked at the 
door of the cottage. 


SINK OR SWIM 


307 


CHAPTER XXXVI 

CONCLUSION 

“Is your mother at home, Katy?” asked Squire 
Turner, as the child opened the outer door. 

“Yes, sir,** said Katy. “She*s upstairs.** 

“Will you tell her I wish to see her?** 

“Yes, sir.** 

Squire Turner walked in, and took a seat without 
ceremony, as was natural, considering that it was 
the house of his future wife. Katy went upstairs, 
and presently Mrs. Raymond, who had changed 
her dress, came down. 

“I thought you were out of town,** she said, try- 
ing to speak in her usual manner, but succeeding 
with difficulty, for she could not help thinking of 
the squire*s agency in driving Harry from home. 

“I returned sooner than I anticipated. By the 
; way, I think I have found a tenant for this cot- 
tage.” 

“I don*t think that will be necessary. Squire 
Turner. I shall probably continue to occupy it 
myself.*’ 

“How can that be?** demanded the squire, sur- 


3o8 sink or swim 

prised. “As my wife, you will, of course, live In 
my house.” 

“I shall not become your wife. I have changed 
my mind.” 

“What does this mean?” he demanded, angrily. 
“Why do you trifle with me thus?” 

“I am afraid. Squire Turner, you have not been 
so much my friend as I supposed.” 

“In what respect have I failed to act as your 
friend?” 

“O, Squire Turner!” exclaimed the widow. Im- 
pulsively, “how could you contrive such a wicked 
plot against my poor boy? How could you send 
him to sea, and not tell me, when you saw I was 
breaking my heart at his absence?” 

The squire flushed at this unexpected accusation. 
How In the world, he thought, could Mrs. Ray- 
mond have heard of his agency in the abduction of 
Harry? 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said; but his 
face belied his words. 

“It was wicked,” said Mrs. Raymond, “to en- 
danger his life and rob me of happiness I” 

“Who makes this absurd charge against me?” 
demanded the squire. 

The door opened, and Harry entered. 

“Squire Turner,” he said, “I don’t suppose you 
are very glad to see me. Probably you did not 
expect me home so soon ; perhaps not at all.” 


SINK OR SWIM 309 

^‘Where did you come from?” stammered the 
squire. 

“From Australia.” 

“From Australia — I thought ” 

“Yes, you thought I was bound to China,” said 
Harry, coolly. “But I left the Sea Eagle, not lik- 
ing Captain Hartley Brandon very much, and went 
to Australia Instead.” 

This was a surprise to the squire, who answered, 
doggedly, however, “you seem to be laboring under 
a strange mistake, Harry. What possible motive 
could I have for sending you away?” 

“I can think of one,” said Harry, significantly; 
“but perhaps you would not like to have me men- 
tion It.” 

Again the squire’s face flushed, for he compre- 
hended the allusion very well. He turned to Mrs. 
Raymond. 

“Am I to understand, Mrs. Raymond,” he said, 
“that you break your engagement to me?” 

“I should hardly expect to marry you now, after 
all that has happened.” 

“Then,” said the squire, angrily, “I may as well 
go; but, before going,” he added, with a sneer, “I 
congratulate you on securing a new dress at my 
expense.” 

“How Is this, mother?” asked Harry. 

“Squire Turner gave me my wedding outfit,” 
said the widow, embarrassed. 


310 SINK OR SWIM 

“Don’t let that trouble you, mother,” said 
Harry. “Squire Turner, if you will let me know 
the expense which you have incurred, I shall have 
pleasure in paying the bill.” 

“I think you will have a little difficulty in paying 
a hundred and twenty dollars,” sneered the squire. 

In reply Harry drew out his pocketbook and 
took therefrom a hundred-dollar bill and a twenty, 
and laid them on the table. 

“I think you will find that correct,” he said. 

“Where did you get all this money?” the squire 
asked, in astonishment. 

“My voyage turned out better than you antici- 
pated,” said Harry. “If you still hold a mortgage 
on this house, I will take it up whenever you de- 
sire.” 

It is hard to say whether Squire Turner was 
more pleased at getting back his money, or disap- 
pointed at the intelligence of Harry’s good for- 
tune; but, on the whole, it is safe to say that the 
latter feeling predominated. 

He took the bills, and again took his hat to go, 
when he was stopped by Harry. 

“If you will stay five minutes longer,” he said, 
“I should like to ask you one or two questions. 
My mother tells me that you have been trying to 
obtain money for the land warrant I placed in your 
hands.” 

“Yes,” said the squire. 


SINK OR SWIM 31 1 

“May I ask what success you have met with?” 

“Probably she will realize a hundred dollars 
from it.” 

“On the whole, Squire Turner, we will not trou- 
ble you to do anything more about it. I think I 
can do better than that.” 

“I have your mother’s authority to act as her 
agent. You are a boy, and not competent to man- 
age it.” 

“My mother recalls her authority.” 

“Is this true?” demanded the squire, hotly. 

“Yes,” said the widow. “Now that Harry is at 
home, I think he can attend to it.” 

“Then you won’t realize a cent,” snapped the 
squire. “But you can’t blame me. I have been 
doing my best for you, and that is all the thanks I 
get. I shall now charge you with the expenses I 
have incurred in the matter, though I did not intend 
to do so.” 

“If the bill is a fair one it shall be paid,” said 
Harry. 

He went to the door and called “Mr. Robin- 
son!” That gentleman entered. Squire Turner 
looked at him as if he could not believe the testi- 
mony of his eyes. 

“Mr. Robinson 1 ” he ejaculated. 

“Yes,” said the lawyer; “I was called East, un- 
expectedly, and thought I would make a call on you 
to report progress. Not finding you at home, I 


312 SINK OR SWIM 

inquired out Mrs. Raymond, who, by the way, I 
found had an entirely erroneous idea of the value 
of the warrant. You will be glad to know that I 
have succeeded in obtaining an offer of ten thou- 
sand dollars, which will be paid over within a 
month.” 

This last blow was too much for Squire Turner. 
Foiled at all points, he dashed his hat angrily upon 
his head, and rushed from the house in undignified 
haste. In this connection, it may be added that 
Harry, finding he had collected the two thousand 
dollars from the insurance company, forced him to 
return it. Squire Turner saved his reputation by 
stating that the man who set the house on fire had 
voluntarily come forward and paid the money, 
which enabled him to return the sum collected of 
the company. For this act Squire Turner was made 
the subject of a complimentary paragraph in the 
county paper; but it is doubtful if he enjoyed read- 
ing it much. 

Great was Mrs. Raymond’s joy over the lucky 
turn in her affairs. Bet^^een nine and ten thousand 
dollars were paid her as the proceeds of the land 
warrant, and this made her quite comfortable. 
When It was ascertained that Harry had brought a 
still larger sum from Australia, he became quite a 
great man in Vernon, and, if he had not been so 
young, I verily believe he would have been elected 
to some responsible town office. 


SINK OR SWIM 313 

But It was not Harry’s Intention to live In Ver- 
non. He wanted a larger field for his efforts. The 
next summer he made a visit to England, and was 
cordially received by Mr. Lindsay, who wished 
him to remain; but Harry was unwilling to be 
separated from his mother. Mr. Lindsay then pro- 
posed to Harry on his return to enter a counting- 
room in New York, to learn business, with a view 
of establishing a branch of his own house In that 
city, at a later day, to be under Harry’s charge. 
This proposal was accepted by our hero, who felt 
that It would be advantageous to him. He re- 
moved his mother and sister to New York, as they 
were unwilling to be separated from him. 

It Is enough to say that In business Harry ex- 
hibited the same qualities which we have already 
seen In him, and that his mastery of the details was 
surprisingly rapid. As I write Harry, who Is now 
twenty-one. Is about to undertake the charge of the 
New York branch of Lindsay & Co., which will 
give him a commanding business position. There 
are rumors that Maud, whose early preference for 
him still continues, will, before very long, become 
the wife of her father’s young American represen- 
tative, and I am Inclined to think the report is a 
true one. 

My readers may like to hear how James Turner 
made out In life. A year since, he obtained the 
situation of teller In a bank, his father standing 


314 SINK OR SWIM 

surety far him. He soon developed expensive 
tastes, and finally disappeared, carrying away thirty 
thousand dollars of the funds of the bank. This 
loss his father has had to make good, and In conse- 
quence, he has become a comparatively poor man, 
and a very sour, morose man at that. He was com- 
pelled to give up his Imposing house, and he now 
lives In the humble cottage formerly occupied by 
Mrs. Raymond. So the wheel of fortune has 
turned, and those who were once at the top are now 
at the bottom. But, for Harry and his mother, we 
hope many years of happiness are In store. But, 
if ever reverses should come, we are sure that 
Harry, keeping In mind his old motto, “Sink or 
Swim,” would bear up bravely, and turn defeat 
into victory. 


TME END 


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smart country lad. Philip was brought up by a kind-hearted innkeeper 
named Brent. The death of Mrs. Brent paved the way for the hero’s 
subsequent troubles. A retired merchant in New York secures him the 
situation of errand boy, and thereafter stands as his friend. 

Tom Temple’s Career. By Horatio Alger^ Jr. 12mo5 

cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Tom Temple is a bright, self-reliant lad. He leaves Plympton village 
to seek work in New York, whence he undertakes an important mission 
to California. Some of his adventures in the far west are so startling that 
the reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall have been 
reached. The tale is written in Mr. Alger’s most fascinating style. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by tht 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 


2 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy. By Horatio Alger, Jb. 

32mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Frark Fowler, a poor boy, bravely determines to make a living for 
himself and his foster-sister Grace. Going to New York he obtains a 
situation as cash boy in a dry goods store. He renders a service to a 
wealthy old gentleman who takes a fancy to the lad, and thereafter 
helps the lad to gain success and fortune. 

Tom Thatcher’s Fortune. By Horatio Alger^ Jr, 

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Tom Thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. He supports his 
mother and sister on meagre wages earned as a shoe-pegger in John 
Simpson’s factory. Tom is discharged from the factory and starts over- 
land for California. He meets with many adventures. The story is told 
in a way which has made Mr. Alger’s name a household word in so many 
homes. 

The Train Boy. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, 

cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Paul Palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported his mother 
and sister by selling books and papers on the Chicago and Milwaukee 
Railroad. He detects a young man in the act of picking the pocket of a 
young lady. In a railway accident many passengers are killed, but Paul 
is fortunate enough to assist a Chicago merchant, who out of gratitude 
takes him into his employ. Paul succeeds with tact and judgment and 
is well started on the road to business prominence. 

Mark Mason’s Victory. The Trials and Triumphs of 

a Telegraph Boy. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, cloth, illustrate, price 

$ 1 . 00 . 

Mark Mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who pluckily 
won his way to success by his honest manly efforts under many difll- 
culties. This story will please the very large class of boys who regard 
Mr. Alger as a favorite author. 

A Debt of Honor. The Story of Gerald Lane’s Success 

in the Far West. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, prio"* 

$ 1 . 00 . 

The story of Gerald Lane and the account of the many trials and dis- 
appointments which he passed through befoi he attained success, will 
interest all boys who have read the previous stories of this delightful 
author. 

Ben Bruce. Scenes in the Life of a Bowery Newsboy. 

By Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Ben Bruce was a brave, manly, generous boy. The story of his efforts, 
and many seeming failures and disappointments, and his final success, are 
most interesting to all readers. The tale is written in Mr. Alger’s 
most fascinating style. 

The Castaways; or, On the Florida Reefs. By James 

Otis, l^o, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

This tale smacks of the salt sea. From the moment that the Sea 
Queen leaves lower New York bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off 
the coast of Florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind 
through her rigging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to 
the leeward. The adventures of Ben Clark, the hero of the story and 
Jake the cook, cannot fail to charm the reader. As a writer for young 
people Mr. Otis is a prime favorite. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duaue Street, New York. 


A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


3 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Wrecked on Spider Island; or. How Ned Kogers Found 

the Treasure. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Ned Rogers, a “down-east” plucky lad ships as cabin boy to earn 
a livelihood. Ned is marooned on Spider Island, and while there dis- 
covers a wreck submerged in the sand, and finds a considerable amount 
of treasure. The capture of the treasure and the incidents of the 
voyage serve to make us entertaining a story of sea-life as the most 
captious boy could desire. 

The Search for the Silver City : A Tale of Adventure in 

Yucatan, By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Two lads, Teddy Wright and Neal Emery, embark on the steam 
yacht Day Dream for a cruise to the tropics. The yacht is destroyed 
by fire, and then the boat is cast upon the coast of Yucatan. They 
hear of the wonderful Silver City, of the Chan Santa Cruz Indians, 
and with the help of a faithful Indiau ally curry off a number of the 
golden images from the temples. Pursued with relentless vigor at last 
their escape is effected in an astonishing manner. The story is so 
full of exciting incidents that the reader is quite carried away with 
the novelty and realism of the narrative. 

A Kuna way Brig; or. An Accidental Cruise. By 

James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

This is a sea tale, and the reader can look out upon the wide shimmer- 
ing sea as it flashes back the sunlight, and imagine himself afloat with 
Harry Vaudyne, Walter Morse, Jim Libby and that old shell-back. Bob 
Brace, on the brig Bonita. The boys discover a mysterious document 
which enables them to find a buried treasure. Thej’^ are stranded on 
an Island and at last are rescued with the treasure. The boys are sure 
to be fascinated with this entertaining story. 

'The Treasure Finders: A Boy^s Adventures in 

Nicaragua. By Jame.s Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

Roy and Dean Coloney, with their guide Tongla, leave their father’s 
Indigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruius of an ancient city. The 
boys eagerly explore the temples of an extinct race and discover three 
golden images cunningly hidden away. They escape with the greatest 
difficulty. Eventually they reach safety with their golden prizes. We 
doubt if there ever was written a more entertaining story than “The 
Treasure Finders.” 

7ack, the Hunchback. A Story of the Coast of Maine. 

By James Otis. Price $1.00. 

This is the story of a little hunchback who lived on Cape Elizabeth, 
m the coast of Maine. His trials and successes are most interesting. 
iTrom first to last nothing stays the Interest of the narrative. It bears u* 

J ilong as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses 
ts force. 

i^ith Washington at Monmouth: A Story of Three 

Philadelphia Boys, By James Otis. 12ino, ornamental cloth, olivine 
edges, illustrated, price $1.50. 

Three Philadelphia lads assist the American spies and make regular 
and frequent visits to Valley Forge in the Winter while the British 
.Occupied the city. The story abounds with pictures of Colonial life 
skillfully drawn, and the glimpses of Washington’s soldiers which are 
given shown that the work has not been hastily done, or without con- 
siderable study. The story Is wholesome and patriotic in tone, as are 
all of Mr. Otis’ works. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 

publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-68 Duane Street, New York. 


4 A. L. BURT^'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

With Lafayette at Yorktown: A Story of How Two 

Boys Joined the Continental Army. By James Otis. 12mo, ornamental 
cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price Jl.50. 

Two lads from Portm*uth, N. H., attempt to enlist In the Colonial 
Army, and are given employment as spies. There is no lack of exciting 
incidents which the youthful reader craves, but it is healthful excite- 
ment brimming with facts which every boy should be familiar with, 
and while the reader is following the adventures of Ben Jaffrays and 
Ned Allen he is acquiring a fund of historical lore which will remain 
In his memory long after that which he has memorized from text- 
books has been forgotten. 

iAt the Siege of Havana. Being the Experiences of 

Three Boys Serving under Israel Putnam in 1762. By James Otis. 12mo, 
ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price S1.50. 

“At the Siege of Havana” deals with that portion of the Island’s 
history when the English king captured the capital, thanks to the 
assistance given by the troops from New England, led in part by Col. 
Israel Putnam. 

The principal characters are Darius Lunt, the lad who, represented as 
telling the story, and his comrades, Robert Clement and Nicholas 
Vallet. Colonel Putnam also figures to considerable extent, necessarily. 
In the tale, and the whole forms one of the most readable stories founded on 
historical facts. 

The Defense of Fort Henry. A Story of Wheeling 

Creek in 1777. By James Otis. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, 
illustrated, price $1.50. 

Nowhere in the history of our country can be found more heroic or 
thrilling incidents than in the story of those brave men and women 
who founded the settlement of Wheeling in the Colony of Virginia. The 
recital of what Elizabeth Zane did is in Itself as heroic a story as can 
be imagined. The wondrous bravery displayed by Major McCulloch 
and his gallant comrades, the sufferings of the colonists and their sacrifice 
of blood and life, stir the blood of old as well as young readers. 

The Capture of the Laughing Mary. A Story of Three 

New York Boys in 1776. By James Otis. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivina 
edges, price $1.50. 

“During the British occupancy of New York, at the outbreak of the 
Revolution, a Yankee lad hears of the plot to take General Washington’s 
person, and calls in two companions to assist the patriot cause. They 
do some astonishing things, and. incidentally, lay the way for an 
American navy later, by the exploit which gives its name to the 
work. Mr. Otis’ books are too well known to require any particular 
commendation to the young.” — Evening Post. 

With Warren at Bunker Hill. A Story of the Siege of 

Boston. By James Otis. 12mo, ornametnal cloth oiivine edges, illus 
trated, price $1.50. 

“This is a tale of the siege of Boston, which opens on the day after 
the doings at Lexington and Concord, with a description of home life 
In Boston, introduces the reader to the British camp at Charlestown, 
shows Gen. Warren at home, describes what a bo.v thought of the 
battle of Bunker Hill, and closes with the raising of the siege. The 
three heroes, George Wentworth, Ben Scarlett and an old ropemaker, 
Incur the enmity of a young Tory, who causes them many adventures 
the boys will like to read.” — Detroit Free Press. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by th« 
publisher, A. L, BURT, 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 










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